


Only Remember These

by dreamplaza



Category: C-Clown
Genre: Bullying, Corporal Punishment, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Incest, Infidelity, LOTS OF WARNINGS srry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamplaza/pseuds/dreamplaza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pleasure is never as pleasant as we expected it to be and pain is always more painful. The pain in the world always outweighs the pleasure. If you don't believe it, compare the respective feelings of two animals, one of which is eating the other.” ― Arthur Schopenhauer</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Barom

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you beta team galmaegi, spacepillars, mangafanxd and LL for holding my hand as I screamed and panicked and held three-hour conversations about fic. For the trope_bingo square 'Friends to Lovers'.

**Part I: Barom**  
  
 **2007, summer**  
  
Barom comes across the flyer on his school by accident. He’s towelling off in the changing room with the noticeboard right in front of him. Usually, he doesn’t really care about what’s on it, but today, all his friends are still in the showers and Barom just briefly glances at it out of boredom.

An exchange program with students from Mokpo, South Korea. Barom thinks of his mother’s old photographs, of scenic parks and buildings, and the home he might have had. He writes down his name.

 

`

 

The Korean students will arrive a Monday morning and Barom is called over to the front of the school to await their arrival. His buddy’s name is Kangjun, printed in neat font on his exchange programme booklet, and Barom is rather excited, despite his nervousness. Perhaps Korea might remind him too much of a life he could never have.

The bright blue bus turns the corner, and the gaggle of junior girls with him burst into excited murmurs and squeal when little heads appear in the windows of the bus, peering at the crowd of junior students curiously.

“They’re so adorable, ohmigod,” Hannah sighs next to him, and Jessica answers in an equally high-pitched squeak. Barom wants to roll his eyes. These kids aren’t dolls for them to collect and do whatever they wish with them.

The bus comes to a stop and the door opens. The junior girls run up to the bus immediately, calling out for their buddies in enthusiastic, but poorly-enunciated words that has Barom breaking out into a smile.

Some girls are already shaking the hands of their thirteen-year-old buddies, trying to get them to pronounce their english names but Barom has yet to see Kangjun anywhere. He looks over the crowd of people by the bus entrance, and one boy steps off the last step almost shyly-- that must be him.

“Hey,” Barom says in Korean, pasting the brightest smile on his face, “are you Kangjun-sshi?”

The boy looks up at him, and Barom thinks he’d only come up to his elbow, at least. He’s so adorable, craning up his neck to look at Barom with wide eyes.

“Um.” Kangjun bows, a perfect ninety-degrees. "Yes, I am. And what is your name?"

"Barom," Barom says and bows clumsily. When he straightens, Kangjun is smiling toothily at him, his eyes crinkling as he asks, "you speak Korean?"

"Yeah," Barom replies, a little taken aback at the question. "My mother's Korean."

"I'm so lucky," Kangjun says, still smiling, "please take care of me."

"I'd be glad to." Barom replies a little dazedly. No one should look so beautiful at the cusp of adolescence. He's still trying to take in Kangjun's slight frame and straight nose and collarbones. So much like a doll from picture books that Barom has a hard time looking away.

 

`  
  
  


"Oh, he's a beauty," Hannah sighs to Barom as they walk to the first class of the day. He can see the slight twitch in her hands, as if she can't wait to touch Kangjun's hair or pinch his cheeks.

Kangjun, as if sensing danger, shuffles to stand slightly behind Barom.

"Hannah, I don't think you should. They might think you're in love with them," Barom tries to surreptitiously put an arm between Hannah's hands and Kangjun.

"B-but." Hannah musters up her best pout. Kangjun shifts so only his head peeks out from behind Barom.

"Fine," she sighs dramatically. "Keep him all to yourself, Barom Yu!" she yells over her shoulder and about ten people in the general vicinity whip their heads back to stare.

“Barom-sshi.” Kangjun is tugging on his sleeve and Barom tries not to squeak from the cuteness. “What did she say? Everyone’s looking at us.”

“Um. Nothing much, they’re just startled by her shouting.”

“Okay.” Kangjun nods his head.  _So obedient,_  Barom coos internally.

 

`

  
  
  
  
"You're so lucky," one of Kangjun’s friends leans over to tell him at lunch, "you have a buddy who speaks Korean."

"I am, right," Kangjun smiles indulgently at them, and turns to grin at Barom. Barom nearly stabs himself in the eye with his fork.

 

`

  
  
  
After lunch, Barom brings Kangjun to his first lesson in Australia. The exchange students are required to attend some classes with their buddies, and Barom is fine with the idea, but he wishes their first lesson didn’t have to be math. Math is the period he likes to plant his head firmly against the textbooks. Kangjun would not be impressed.

The whiteboard is even less appealing when Kangjun is sitting right next to him, a sliver of pink tongue peeking out from between his lips as he carefully writes out the question in hangul.

“Mr Yu!”

Barom jumps a little in his seat. “Yes, Ms Lee!”

“Have you worked out the answer to this question?” Mrs Lee taps the board.

“Uh...” Barom frantically flips through his textbook. Kangjun slides his notebook over it smoothly.

“Fifteen square-root seven,” Barom reads the circled answer.

“Very good, Mr Yu. Didn’t expect you to get that...” Ms Lee trails off and turns back to the whiteboard. Kevin sniggers very loudly behind Barom. Barom whips around to flash his friend the finger, and then turns back to thank Kangjun.

Kangjun smiles, a quick little quirk of his lips, and goes back to his set of questions.

  
  


`  
  
  


Being a buddy meant that he has to spend one day with the students to go sightseeing. Barom tries to chat with Kangjun about his life in Korea. Kangjun’s really shy, responding with stutters (Barom thinks squealing internally is going to be a recurrent thing of his) and pauses frequently to answer each question carefully. He speaks of sleepy towns right outside the metropolitan area, the early hum of traffic and his best friend. Barom listens, but he imagines, tries to piece Mokpo from Kangjun’s eyes until his vision blurs and all he can see and hear is the grainy pavement and the crunch of gravel.

The bus makes a sharp turn and Barom jerks himself out of his thoughts. Kangjun is staring up at him, eyes wide and-- oh god his eyes are so big and lovely-- looks like he’s waiting for something.

“I’m sorry?” Barom tries.

“What is it like where you live?”

Barom thinks about his mother, her alcoholism and the dinners set for three, and answers, “It’s a beautiful place. I wish I could take you to see it."

“Why can’t you take me to see it?” And here Barom blinks because Kangjun smiles up at him unapologetically after his request, nothing like the beautiful, shy boy he first saw stepping off the bus. Kangjun is still beautiful, but Barom realises that he is definitely not shy, merely polite. And this is him, a little more petulant, a little less doll-like. Barom thinks he might have fallen a little in love.

“You have a schedule to keep to, and we are not allowed,” Barom says, stammering over the thundering of his heartbeat. Kangjun merely hums, shifting against his seat and there Barom wants to gasp a little, at how his eyelashes skim the apple of his cheeks and gleam golden in the afternoon sun.

When Barom closes his eyes, all he sees in his mind’s eye is Kangjun trudging along the winding roads to school. The Kangjun in his mind is weary and down-trodden, and Barom can’t imagine this boy with such a heavy set of shoulders.

Barom would like to think that he sees Kangjun’s weariness because he actively looks for it.

Sometimes Kangjun looks at Barom in a way he cannot understand. If Barom stares back long enough, Kangjun’s mouth will twist into a deep frown before he looks away, as though he is disappointed by what he sees. For one second, Barom thinks he can say something to stop Kangjun in time. Suspend him in the moment of time before the flower begins to wilt. Perhaps his vision of Kangjun is coming true, but Barom knows he is just deluding himself.

 

`

 

As Barom walks Kangjun to the hotel he’s staying at with the rest of his classmates, Kangjun gets permission to use the toilet on the ground floor. He drags Barom into it and before Barom even comes to a stop, Kangjun’s already pressing his mouth firmly against his.

And Barom just crumbles and then surges against Kangjun’s frame, hands coming up to grasp his waist and stroke his hair, mouth pressing against lips in a sweet suck-- before he tears himself away.

“I’m sorry, you-you’re,” Barom says, trying to catch his breath. He gestures lamely, and then drops his hand for it to rest at his side.  _You’re thirteen, you’re not a girl, you’re leaving tomorrow._  These excuses don’t fit. Instead, Barom gazes at Kangjun, willing him to understand what he can’t say.

Kangjun’s gaze lowers. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry--”

“It’s not your fault.” There it is again. Barom is once again reminded that Kangjun is neither child nor doll. It’s an idea that’s hard to change.

Kangjun steps up to him nervously, and Barom wants to laugh a little. This, from the boy who had grabbed and kissed him minutes ago?

“Can we at least.” Kangjun bites his bottom lip. “Keep in contact?”

“Yes.” Barom digs out his phone. He wants to allow himself just this.

 

`

 

Barom means to text Kangjun back, he really does.

The day after Kangjun leaves for Korea, Barom’s mother finally announces that she’s getting a divorce.

Two months after that, Barom moves out with her, but he hardly minds. His home hasn’t been at his parent’s old house for a long time. He spends most of his time in the dance studio with his friends.

Two years later, after bumbling around in college for a year, he gets an acceptance letter from a dance crew in Mokpo. Six days later, he boards a plane to Korea.

 

`

 

“Barom-sshi?”

Barom knows that voice. He whips his head around so fast his neck cricks with the force. The boy who spoke is standing next to him, his eyes wide with what seems like disbelief. Barom almost doesn’t recognise him, but Kangjun’s eyes and chin are too distinctive for him to forget.

“Ah,” Barom hastily bows, recalling Korea’s customs in the nick of time, “hello, Kangjun-sshi.”

Kangjun bows too, and when he straightens, his eager expression, coupled with his school uniform, makes Barom want to reach over and touch his full cheeks. Then he remembers two years ago, and his heart lurches with guilt.

“A-ah.” Kangjun stutters, his voice loud in the cramped neighbourhood minimart, “when did you come to Korea?”

“A few months ago.”

Silence. Kangjun shifts around uncomfortably, his hands coming up to play with the collar of his uniform.

Barom clears his throat.

“Is your school around here?”

Kangjun jolts at the question.

“Yeah, it’s just ten minutes down the hill --”

“Jun-ah!” A boy wearing Kangjun’s uniform leaps onto the Kangjun’s back, who stumbles under his friend’s weight, and the friend laughs, happy to have surprised him. For a moment Barom’s mouth almost falls open at the sight of a ridiculously pretty boy perching his chin on Kangjun’s shoulder. He slides down from Kangjun’s back, and focuses his eyes on Barom. His eyes are indeed beautiful, huge and watery, but there is a certain sharpness in his gaze, a certain wariness with which he regards Barom. Barom doesn’t like the idea of bowing and exposing his neck to this boy.

But the boy bows first, and Barom inclines his head in return.

“Sorry, how do you know Junnie?”

Kangjun saves Barom from answering. “Hyunil-ah, this is Barom-sshi, you know, from my exchange trip --” Barom feels a spike of fear at how Hyunil’s eyes narrow at the mention of his name. So Kangjun had told him.

“Barom-sshi, Hyunil is my friend from school.”

“Nice to meet you.” They shake hands and bow, and when Barom straightens, Hyunil is eyeing him, his mouth twisted in a grimace that looks out of place on his doll-like face.

“Jun-ah, we have to go. I’m going to get yelled at by my mom again. You know how she hates to be kept waiting.” Hyunil is still staring at Barom, as if daring him to say something to make the both of them stay in the minimart. The pack of tofu in Barom’s hand is dripping condensation, and it makes his palm slippery and clammy.

“Yeah, let’s go, Hyunil-ah,” Kangjun turns back to bow quickly at Barom, “goodbye, Barom-sshi, it was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, goodbye...” Barom trails off as he watches Hyunil almost drag Kangjun out of the store.

Barom puts the tofu back and picks another from behind it.

  
  


`  
  
  


Barom is sitting on the bus when a hoard of middle-schoolers board it, their chatter a buzz in his ears. It’s twelve o’clock in the morning.

The uniforms are the same as those which Kangjun wore, and Barom can’t help but feel slightly hopeful. Just then, the crowd of students part, and there he is. Kangjun has one hand on the grab hold, and the other holding his phone. Hyunil is next to him, talking at him rather than with him; Kangjun looks too absorbed in his phone. A girlfriend? A boy?

For a moment, Barom feels something akin to jealousy, and he quickly quashes the feeling as guilt wells up. He feels vaguely sick in the stomach.

Kangjun turns, as though he can feel eyes on him, and Barom quickly ducks his head behind his backpack. He doesn’t want to look like a creeper. He puts his phone on his lap and flips through his texts over and over again, and when he finally raises his head after five minutes, the crowd has thinned, and Kangjun is gone.

 

 


	2. Kangjun

**Part II: Kangjun**  
  
  
 **2001, autumn**  
  
Kangjun has been a small child since birth. A premature baby at seven months, he hovered dangerously near unhealthily underweight. His mother had bought him so many supplements it seems like all Kangjun can remember of his childhood is taking pill after pill.  
  
At the age of seven, Kangjun  _hates_  pills. They taste yucky and his throat hurts from swallowing.  
  
“But mom,” he whines and tries to widen his eyes as much as he can.  
  
“So cute,” his mother coos.  
  
 _Yes_ , Kangjun thinks gleefully.  _Me: 1, mom: 0!_  
  
“Jun-ah, these pills are good for you. Be a good boy and eat them, they’ll make you as tall as dad.”  
  
“Dad’s not very tall,” Kangjun retorts petulantly. But he eats the pills anyway.  
  
Being small and cute-looking has its benefits. Teachers are extra nice to him, and his relatives coo and cuddle him whenever they come over. Kangjun quite like being tiny for his age, even if he can never quite see the whiteboard.  
  
One afternoon, he sits at the swing set to wait for his mother, sweaty and sticky from the summer heat. It’s really hot, but if he gets up from his spot, she won’t be able to find him. Getting scolded that one time is reminder enough for Kangjun.  
  
Then, Kangjun hears a soft sound from the corner. It sounds like crying.  
  
Kangjun pushes himself off from the swingset and walks over to the corner, and sees his classmate Hyunil sprawled on the ground rubbing his grass-stained face, making it even dirtier with his equally mud-caked fists.  
  
It rained this morning; Kangjun remembers staring out of the window during math to look at it.  _I won’t be able to play with my friends today,_  he thought, so he wiped off the water on the swing set to wait for his mother to come pick him up.  
  
Right now, Kangjun can see some of the dirt getting into Hyunil’s eye and he hurries over, digging out his handkerchief from his back pocket.  
  
He squats gingerly next to Hyunil and pushes the handkerchief into his fist. The boy looks up, startled, and Kangjun cringes a little at the amount of mud on his face.  
  
“Mom says mud isn’t clean, you should wipe it off.”  
  
Hyunil just stares at the handkerchief and then back at Kangjun and the mud is in his eye. Kangjun does not like mud because it made him throw up once, so he takes matters into his own hands.  
  
“Here,” he says as he wipes at Hyunil’s nose and cheek. To his frustration, his handkerchief is stained, and he only seems to spread the mud evenly on Hyunil’s face.  
  
Hyunil wrinkles his nose, his eyes still red and dribbling tears.  
  
Kangjun tugs him up, and Hyunil follows with half-hearted protests as he leads them both towards the toilet, where Kangjun proceeds to use a lot of soap and time trying to clean his classmate’s face.  
  
“All better.” He grins at Hyunil, who smiles back shyly.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Kangjun jolts, just a little, because up close, Hyunil’s smile is,  _gulp_ , really,  _really_  pretty.  
  
“Why were you in the mud, anyway,” he mutters as he exits the bathroom, almost knocking his head against the metal of his mother’s handbag. He jumps back in surprise and knocks into Hyunil instead.  
  
“Ow!” the both of them yell, rubbing their heads in pain.  
  
“Aigoo,” Kangjun’s mother chuckles as she rubs at the rapidly-growing bump on Kangjun’s forehead. “Hello,” she greets Hyunil as she squats down to face him, “what’s your name?”  
  
“Hyunil, and he’s in the same class as me!” Kangjun knows he’s interrupting, but he can’t help himself. He’s just gotten to know a new friend and he feels like bouncing all over the playground with excitement.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Hyunil-ah,” she greets him, and giggles when Hyunil ducks his head shyly to say, “Nice to meet you too, eomeonim.”  
  
“So polite,” she coos, ruffling his hair, and Kangjun feels a small spike of jealousy in his chest.  _Mom rubs only_ my _hair!_  
  
Kangjun wants to push Hyunil away, but as he looks at the other boy who’s smiling so widely --doesn’t his face hurt?-- he doesn’t have the heart to. If he pushes Hyunil, Hyunil might not like him anymore. And he wants Hyunil to like him because Kangjun already likes Hyunil very, very much.  
  
  
`  
  
  
Kangjun’s mom takes Hyunil home, because  _no boy your age should be walking home by yourself!,_  and it turns out Hyunil just lives one street down from Kangjun’s house.  
  
“Bye, Hyunil-ah!” Kangjun hollers as the other boy closes his front door.  
  
“Bye.” Hyunil smiles that sweet smile, and Kangjun doesn’t know the word for that feeling in his chest.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Hyunil is really, really nice. He lets Kangjun have the green crayon in art class because green is Kangjun’s favourite colour, and he whispers the correct answer into Kangjun’s ear when the math teacher calls on him in class.  
  
During recess, however, Hyunil is reluctant to join Kangjun’s group of friends.  
  
“Come on, they’re nice,” Kangjun says as he tries to pull Hyunil out of the classroom.  
  
“I’m--” Hyunil grunts with effort around the pillar he’s wrapped his limbs around-- “too tired to play today. You go without me.”  
  
“But why?” Kangjun doesn’t understand why Hyunil would be  _tired_. Doesn’t he want to stretch his legs after math class? It’s only 10AM and Kangjun’s mom tells him that it’s strange to want to go to bed in the morning.  
  
“Kangjun-ah, I just don’t want to, okay.” Hyunil’s hands are still wrapped around the pillar and Kangjun’s arms are getting sore from pulling.  
  
“Fine.” Kangjun lets go of Hyunil’s foot and stomps away.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
During moral education class, Kangjun realises that stomping off wasn’t polite of him. His mother taught him better than that.  
  
So right after the last bell rings, he packs his bag as fast as he can so he can catch up with Hyunil, apologize to him and then maybe they'll go home together. Maybe even every day after today, Kangjun thinks with a happy sigh.  
  
But when he looks up, Hyunil's desk is empty.  
  
Kangjun slings his backpack haphazardly onto his shoulder before rushing out of the classroom. Hopefully, Hyunil will still be at the playground.  
  
He's not.  
  
Confused and a little disappointed, Kangjun goes to the bathroom. Maybe Hyunil is waiting for him there.  
  
Not there either.  
  
He slumps over to the swing set to wait for his mom.  
  
The playground is almost empty by now. Just two other girls are playing by the sand box. Kangjun’s mom is always late because she has to make dinner, and usually he doesn't mind, but today he just really wants to go home.  
  
"Piece of shit!"  
  
Kangjun starts at the curse. Then he hears the crying.  
  
He peers around the corner to see five older boys surrounding Hyunil who's on the floor.  
  
"Is your daddy coming to save you now?" one coos at Hyunil.  
  
Kangjun bolts for the teachers' lounge.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
"That was a very smart thing you did there, Kangjun-ah," Mrs Lee says proudly. He hardly registers it. In between the time when Kangjun had went off to search for a teacher and when he brought Mrs Lee back to the deserted corner, one of the boys had aimed a kick at Hyunil's side. They're in the principal's office; Hyunil’s in the hospital.  
  
Mrs Lee had called Hyunil's mother, and she was nothing like Kangjun had expected. His own mother is calm and dependable, but Hyunil's mother honestly  _scared_  Kangjun. Her entire presence unsettled Kangjun to the core, from the way her shrill voice cracked several times during her tirade at Mrs Lee to the way her high heels clicked against the floor.  
  
“Let’s go home, Jun-ah,” his own mother says softly, “you did well today.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Hyunil doesn’t come to class for a week, and Kangjun wants to cry from the amount of work his friend needs to catch up on. He wants to see Hyunil so badly, too. His new friend might be lonely in the hospital. That’s what his father had told him. Right before Kangjun was born, his father had to stay in the hospital for days, and Kangjun’s mother couldn’t visit because she was pregnant and in another city at that time. He’d said it was terrible, stuck somewhere so far from his family and friends. Kangjun can’t let Hyunil feel lonely. So, on the fifth day of Hyunil’s absence, Kangjun pleads with his mom to let him visit his friend in the hospital.  
  
“Mom.” He puts on his cutest face and plasters himself against his mom’s leg. “Can we go visit Hyunil today?”  
  
She continues slicing vegetables even when there’s an extremely adorable seven-year-old doing aegyo against her leg. Kangjun doesn’t understand.  
  
“Have you finished your homework?”  
  
“Yes, mom.”  
  
“Have you taken your pills?”  
  
 _Oops._  “Yes, mom.”  
  
“Let me put this in the freezer and we’ll go, alright?”  
  
“Ye--”  
  
“Go put on some jeans, you’re going to the hospital, young man,” she chuckles, putting down the knife. “I’ll go call Hyunil’s mom.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Here we are.” The nurse opens the door to admit Kangjun and his mother.  
  
Hyunil looks up from his lap and towards Kangjun.  
  
“Hyunil-ah,” Kangjun yells, despite his mom shushing him immediately, and springs over to Hyunil’s bedside. “We brought snacks! And homework!”  
  
“Thank you for the food, eomeonim, Kangjun-ah,” Hyunil tries to bow from his sitting position.  
  
“It’s nothing, Hyunil-ah. I’m going to step outside for a while and call Junnie’s dad; I’ll leave you boys to it then.”  
  
The minute the door closes, Kangjun asks, “Can I climb in with you?”  
  
“Uh, sure.”  
  
Kangjun scrambles up immediately. “How’s your rib?” He wriggles his toes on top of the bedsheet.  
  
“I’m okay. Mom says I still have to stay in the hospital for a few more weeks--”  
  
“A few  _weeks_?”  
  
“Yeah, mom isn’t too happy about it either.”  
  
“Me neither. Those bullies got sent to the principal’s office, you know!”  
  
Here, Hyunil’s smile droops and he looks away.  
  
“Why’re you sad, Hyunil-ah?” Kangjun nudges him just as little so he doesn’t bruise Hyunil’s rib again.  
  
“Hyunil-ah?”  
  
Hyunil is quiet for a long while.  
  
“It’s nothing. Thank you for helping me, Kangjun-ah--”  
  
“Call me Jun.” Kangjun pastes himself against Hyunil’s arm.  
  
“Okay.” Hyunil’s mouth twists into a small smile again. “Jun-ah.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Hyunil comes back to school only after a month.  
  
“I hope I didn’t miss anything in class,” he says as he sits with Kangjun during recess.  
  
“Not much, just a pop quiz,” Kangjun says. Hyunil’s eyes go round with terror. Kangjun hastily amends, “B-but it doesn’t count in our final grade.”  
  
“Don’t scare me like that.” Hyunil pushes Kangjun lightly, but he has a smile on his face.  
  
Kangjun’s grown fond of Hyunil in a way he can’t explain; he likes to turn around during class to catch Hyunil’s eye, and to laugh quietly with him when the teacher says something that’s funny only to the two of them. Kangjun sits with Hyunil during recess and they walk home with Kangjun’s mother. It’s routine, almost.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Hyunil-ah, my birthday’s in a few days!” Kangjun can’t keep the excitement out of his voice. His father promised to get him the Gameboy he’s been eyeing for ages, even though he made Kangjun swear that he’ll only play for one hour each day. Kangjun can’t wait to show it to Hyunil. And his mother said they’ll have a small celebration, just the five of them. Kangjun is almost a hundred percent sure that they’re taking him to the amusement park.  
  
“Hmm.” Hyunil blinks sleepily. “So’s mine.”  
  
Kangjun deflates a little at that. It’s obviously too early to talk about things only he’s excited about. But then he perks up.  
  
“When’s your birthday?”  
  
“April 19th.” Hyunil chews on his sandwich so slowly Kangjun thinks he might fall asleep looking at the monotonous see-sawing motion. But there’s nothing else to look at, when they’re sitting behind the tree a little way from the school’s playground.  
  
“Really? It’s two days before mine!”  
  
“That’s great,” Hyunil mumbles around his sandwich. Kangjun deflates a little more, but then Hyunil continues. “It means we’re meant to be friends, aren’t we?” Hyunil is smiling around his mouthful of bread. “We’re meant to be closer than brothers.” Kangjun perks up at this.  
  
“We might have been twins, if we were born from the same family,” he enthuses.  
  
“Maybe we might have telepathic powers,” Hyunil says, and plants his hands against his forehead and wiggles his fingers in such a strange manner that Kangjun wants to laugh.  
  
“What’s this?” Kangjun copies him, his fingers coming forward to brush against Hyunil’s.  
  
“It’s the connection between our minds,” Hyunil pouts. “I’m serious.”  
  
“You’re so weird, Hyunil-ah.”  
  
Hyunil shrugs and goes back to his sandwich. “You’re pretty weird too, Junnie-ah.”  
  
“Am not.”  
  
“Are too!”  
  
“Am--”  
  
Someone coughs pointedly behind them and Kangjun whips around, and the boys who kicked Hyunil months prior smirk at them.  
  
“You’re the kid who told on us, aren’t ya?” one of them sneers at Kangjun, his sneaker grinding loud against the dirt.  
  
“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” another says, and the rest snigger collectively, feet shuffling closer. Kangjun tries to stand up, but one of the boys catches that movement, and before he can even react, Kangjun feels the dig of knuckles against his side as he’s pulled to the ground. Dimly, he registers his own shout of pain over Hyunil’s yells for help.  
  
Kangjun curls into a ball, hands clutching his head to protect himself from the blows that rain on his entire body. Through the crack between his arm and his knees, he spies an opening, and squirms towards it, only to have a shoe press against his ribs, the weight resting against him in warning.  
  
 _Don’t try to escape._  
  
Kangjun holds back a sob as someone drags him up by his elbows. He flinches at the cruel smile etched on the boy’s face, and as he watches him clench his fist and raise it, Kangjun closes his eyes.  
  
And he is dropped onto the ground.  
  
A teacher Kangjun has never seen before rushes over, yelling at the older boys who let go Kangjun at the first sign of trouble.  
  
“Junnie-Junnie-ah.”  
  
Kangjun whips around to see Hyunil lying on the floor too, his hand clutching his side, and he scrambles over, wincing at the pain shooting up from his ankle.  
  
He tries to pull Hyunil up from the ground, but it’s as though Hyunil is content staying there like that. Kangjun leans a little closer to grip Hyunil’s forearms and then he hears it, the incessant stream of apologies:  _I’msorryI’msorryI’m--_  
  
The teacher pulls Kangjun away from Hyunil and asks him questions he’s not ready to hear. All he hears is the crack in Hyunil’s voice as he looks pleadingly at him.  
  
 _\--sorry._  
  
But for all his apologies, Kangjun doesn’t know what he’s trying to say.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Later, while the teachers and his parents settle themselves around his hospital bed, the realisation hits him so quickly he has to shake his head a little to clear his thoughts.  
  
“How did this happen, Jun-ah? Did you provoke them?” Kangjun’s mother stares at him worriedly.  
  
Around him, six adults wait for his response.  
  
Kangjun thinks about Hyunil, and lies.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
At 5PM, Kangjun’s father reaches Kangjun’s hospital wing.  
  
“Hey, Junnie-ah,” he sighs and settles down into the chair next to the bed.  
  
“Hey, dad,” Kangjun greets, sitting up straighter.  
  
“How are you?” His father’s usual smile is replaced by a deep frown, his eyebrows pulled towards his eyes in such a way that makes him look much older than he actually is.  
  
“I’m good!” Kangjun thinks he feels better already. He wriggles his legs as much as he can without moving his upper body. “See?”  
  
“Kangjun-ah.” And here Kangjun winces at his full name. His father only calls him that when he’s going to take out the cane. “Tell me what happened. Did you do something to agitate them?”  
  
Kangjun is at a loss for words, because what he actually wants to say-- that he’d gotten into trouble while trying to prevent it-- isn’t what he thinks his father wants to hear.  
  
It seems like he paused for too long, because his father sighs again, as if Kangjun has disappointed him. Kangjun feels his gut clench instinctively with the urgency to prove something. The words are almost at his mouth when his father sighs again, ruffling Kangjun’s hair.  
  
“I’ll protect, you, Jun-ah,” his father whispers, “leave this to me.”  
  
Kangjun watches as his father closes the ward door behind him, feeling more lost than ever, even with the relief flooding his chest.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun’s parents and Hyunil’s mother demand for the perpetrators’ suspensions, and the boys will transfer out by next week, one day before Kangjun and Hyunil are discharged from the hospital.  
  
Kangjun’s mom makes the both of them sign up for judo practice. Hyunil’s mother agrees to it, so twice a week, Kangjun’s mom walks them to practice. After they finish practice, Kangjun’s father picks them up and takes them out for ice cream (judo makes Kangjun hungry a lot). Even though it’s an hour to dinner time, Kangjun’s father lets them have the sundae anyway, and placates his wife when Kangjun can’t finish his dinner.  
  
On days that they don’t have judo practice, Kangjun has taken to waiting for his father to come home. Over the years, he’s learnt to memorize the sound of his father’s footsteps. They click against the cement in a sharp, crisp way that distinguishes him from the rest of the fifth-floor occupants. Twenty steps from the elevator and he’ll be in front of the front door. Kangjun knows the shade of his shoes: they’re black and shined with polish. Kangjun’s father comes home at 5PM sharp, unless he’s away on business or unless he’d already called his wife to tell her he won’t be home for dinner.  
  
Kangjun’s father is painfully punctual, pulling his car over the front of the building of their judo school at 6PM sharp. But he is not boring, Kangjun notes with firmness. His father knows all the best ice cream places in town, and he takes them to a different place to sample new items all the time. Usually, they consist of vendors on the roadsides, but the flavours they offer are plenty enough for Kangjun, who likes only double chocolate chip, mocha chocolate and (of course) chocolate. Hyunil likes variety, however, and he is perfectly fine with sampling a different flavor of ice lollies each day.  
  
Hyunil lets him take a huge bite off his iced lolly and sometimes he sneakily makes Kangjun swap him (“Let me try yours, Junnie-ah.” “Sure-- hey don’t eat all of it!”), but Kangjun doesn’t mind because he’s grown to like flavoured ice lollies. But chocolate will still be his favourite flavour, he thinks as he hides his sundae from Hyunil’s eager eyes.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Hyunil-ah, good morning!” Kangjun’s mother chirps when she opens the door.  
  
“Good morning, eomeonim.” Hyunil bows quickly and then peers past her into the living room. “Is Junnie ready to go?”  
  
“Yes, he’s just finished breakfast, am I right, Jun-ah,” she calls over.  
  
Kangjun looks up from his pancakes. There’s one more on the serving plate.  
  
“Jun-ah, what time is it right now?” his mother asks sweetly.  
  
“Mrrrhhmphhh?” Kangjun says over a mouthful of pancakes.  
  
“It’s time to go.” His mother wipes his mouth none too gently (“Ow!” “Aigoo, I’m sorry, Junnie-ah.”) and hands him his backpack. “It’s rude to keep your friends waiting, Jun-ah. Have a great day.” She kisses him on the cheek. Kangjun is left feeling very confused.  
  
Hyunil tugs at his sleeve urgently. “Jun-ah, we’re really going to be late.”  
  
Kangjun glances at his watch.  _Oops._  “Yeah.” He takes Hyunil’s hand in his and drags them to the bus stop because Hyunil doesn’t run as fast as he does and they really need to get there  _right now_. “Let’s hurry!”  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“My mom signed me up for piano lessons last week,” Kangjun tells Hyunil during break. “I can’t go home with you today.”  
  
“Piano?” Hyunil shoots him a confused look. “Why piano?  
  
“Mom said it’s good for me. Whatever that means.”  
  
“Do you really have to go?” Hyunil looks a little put out, with his head bowed and lips pulled into a pout.  
  
Kangjun feels bad, but he has no idea how to get out of it. His mother is going to sit in for every lesson. “Yeah, mom really wants me to go. She said she got a discount since my sister is going with me, too.”  
  
“Can I go with you?”  
  
Kangjun blinks at Hyunil, who looks immensely pleased with himself. “Sure. But will your mom let you go?”  
  
Hyunil nods. “I’ll ask her, but I know she’ll probably say yes.”  
  
Kangjun feels happiness bubble up to his throat. He doesn’t have to deal with his four-year-old sister alone! Well, his mother is coming along to take care of Kanghye, but Kanghye kicks up the biggest fuss wherever she goes; Kangjun thinks he might go deaf if he has to go with her to the hairdresser’s again. And honestly, Kangjun is not looking forward to piano at all. It sounds so boring. The Gameboy lying on his desk back home is crying from neglect. Kangjun swears can  _hear_  it crying.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Piano is  _horrible_. Kangjun is glad Hyunil went with him.  
  
Beside him, Kanghye squirms in her seat as the teacher nags about the positioning of their fingers against the keyboard. Hyunil stifles a yawn next to him. Kangjun elbows him and they burst into soft giggles, much to the displeasure of Miss Song. She pushes her glasses further up her nose and frowns down on them.  
  
“Do you want to be here?”  
  
 _No,_  Kangjun thinks.  
  
His mother clears her throat pointedly from the back of the class.  
  
“Yes,” he says.  
  
“Good.” Miss Song looks vaguely pleased, but Kangjun can never tell, for the next moment her face smooths over to a monotonous expression to match her voice. “Now let’s try playing this piece here.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
After a torturous two-hour lesson, Kangjun bursts out of the apartment with a yell of “Finally!” Hyunil yawns. About five people turn to stare at him. Kangjun sticks his tongue out at them.  
  
He waits for his mother to bring Kanghye from the restroom, and then notices the now empty road.  
  
“Hey, where’s your mom?”  
  
Hyunil looks a little guilty at that question. “She’s, uh, she’s not coming. Can I go home with you?”  
  
“Sure,” Kangjun’s mother chips in, “walk with us, Hyunil-ah. The weather’s great for a stroll today.”  
  
“Dad’s not coming?” Kangjun is a little sad that he won’t get an ice cream today.  
  
“He has work today, it’s just going to be the four of us today, Jun-ah.” Kangjun pinches his mouth together in the most unflattering way he can at his mother. She laughs and digs through her purse. “Hold on, let me take a picture.”  
  
“No, don’t take pictures of me!” Kangjun yells and jumps to stop her.  
  
“So noisy,” Kanghye mumbles, and Hyunil nods his head in agreement.  
  
“Yah, I’m your big brother. You’re just too quiet,” Kangjun grumbles. Kanghye puffs out her cheeks and turns away to stare at the pretty display of balloons opposite the street before Kangjun can childe her some more.  
  
“Jun-ah,” his mother sighs exasperatedly, but she’s smiling.  
  
She doesn’t take a picture in the end. Kangjun laughs evilly in his head, hooks his arm with Hyunil’s and swings them as they walk home.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Hyunil-ah, I’ve never been to your house. Can we go tomorrow? Is your mom okay with that?” Kangjun taps his pen against a particularly difficult question on his worksheet. “I’m so bored of my room.” He waves his hand around the complete and utter mess that his room has become as the examinations near.  
  
Kangjun’s sure that Hyunil’s room will be cooler-- maybe it’s like those rooms in the magazines his mother keeps on the coffee table.  
  
“I can’t, sorry. My house is really messy,” Hyunil says. The day-old box of snacks takes this moment to tumble off the stack of piano scores behind them.  
  
“I don’t mind.”  
  
“Of course you don’t mind, you live in a pig sty.”  
  
“Hey!” Kangjun pushes Hyunil’s hand so his pencil goes flying across the page. Hyunil shoots him a glare that probably means,  _you will pay for this._  Kangjun widens his eyes and blinks at him cutely.  
  
“I’ll ask my mom, okay.” Hyunil deflates, and chews on his bottom lip. He finishes the last question with a flourish.  
  
Kangjun imitates the motion with a flick of his wrist and crossed eyes and gets an elbow in the ribs for his effort.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun’s mother comes back from the parent-teacher meeting and proceeds to sit Kangjun on the couch.  
  
“Jun-ah, your teacher tells me you haven’t been attending any club activities. As a third-grader, a co-curricular activity is mandatory. Did you know that, Jun-ah?”  
  
Kangjun is bewildered. “It is?”  
  
“Jun-ah, your teacher told me she handed out forms ages ago. Do you still have yours?”  
  
He flips through his neatly organised file, once, twice, three times.  _Oh._  That must have been the form he dropped when Hyunil tackled him in a (poor) attempt to convince him to go try out for the soccer team with him. Kangjun had pushed him back and then sat around, twiddling his thumbs waiting for Hyunil to finish tryouts. Every Tuesday, Kangjun goes home with just his mother. It is a tad bit boring without Hyunil, but at least he gets to finish his work without Hyunil distracting him and get some quality time with his Gameboy.  
  
“Um, no?” Kangjun smiles hopefully at his mother.  
  
“Jun-ah, why are you so forgetful?” she sighs exaggeratedly. “You have to get a form first thing tomorrow morning, okay?”  
  
“Yes, mom.”  
  
“Which club do you like?”  
  
Kangjun says the first thing that comes to mind. “Soccer.”  
  
His mother bobs her head encouragingly. “You have to fill in that form yourself, and come back to me so I can sign it by tomorrow night, understand?” She pinches her face into a stern expression.  
  
“Yes, mom!” Kangjun does a mock-salute, the kind that he’s seen on TV. His mother  _always_  laughs when she sees people do that on her dramas. Kangjun allows himself a split-second of glee when she giggles.  
  
“Go study now.” She slaps him on the rump towards the general direction of his room.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Hey, Hyunil-ah!” Kangjun swats him on the bum in greeting.  
  
Hyunil yelps and turns red. “Wh-what was that for?” he blurts out, one hand covering his bum.  
  
Kangjun clutches the new co-curricular activity form in his hand nervously. “Is that not okay?”  
  
“No,” Hyunil says, and slaps Kangjun’s butt. “There. We’re even.”  
  
Kangjun pouts. Hyunil doesn’t even notice and takes the form from him. “What’s this?”  
  
Kangjun pouts some more. “It’s the stupid form you made me drop when you wanted me to go to your stupid soccer tryout.”  
  
“Don’t swear!”  
  
“‘Stupid’ is not a swear word!”  
  
“Well.” Hyunil pauses. “It is to me!”  
  
“Stupid--”  
  
Hyunil slaps Kangjun’s butt again.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
“You deserved it!”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
All the way from first grade till seventh, Kangjun is undoubtedly Hyunil’s best friend. Some of his old friend from elementary transferred out of the luckless town of Mokpo for bigger cities and bigger opportunities, but Hyunil and Kangjun stayed the same.  
  
“Will you transfer away, too?” Kangjun asked Hyunil once after soccer practice, when the wind whips their hair into disarray, and Hyunil had laughed and laughed at him, as if Kangjun had told the funniest joke.  
  
“Why would I,” Hyunil said between giggles, “I have you, don’t I?”  
  
“Of course you have me,” Kangjun replied effortlessly. They’ve stuck to each other for years, and Kangjun wants to believe that this is all he will need. A family to go home to and a friend to hold onto.  
  
Perhaps only many, many years in the future, Kangjun will know of the importance in this belief, because it’s important to remember that things do not start out terrible. They only become terrible when children grow into their circumstances. They only become terrible when we grow conscious of the fact that our lives do not, in fact, belong to us.  
  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
The TV is still on when Kangjun wakes up in the middle of the night to pee.  
  
“Dad?” he calls as he peers around in the semi-darkness.  
  
“Jun-ah, hello,” his father greets him from the couch, can of beer in hand.  
  
“Why’re you up, dad?”  
  
Kangjun’s father sighs, his hair flopping into his eyes. From where Kangjun’s standing, his father’s wrinkles are more prominent with the soft shine of the TV illuminating them.  
  
“Nothing much. Go back to sleep.”  
  
As Kangjun walks back from the toilet, he steals one last glance at his father. On screen, the credits roll. His father has his eyebrows furrowed deeply and Kangjun doesn’t understand why.  
  
He reminds himself to ask his father in the morning.  
  
When he wakes, it’s 7.15AM, not 7.00AM, and Hyunil is probably waiting outside his own apartment for him now.  
  
Kangjun only remembers during history class, but he brushes it off. His father might not tell him, even if he asked. It’s probably just work. Kangjun remembers his mother saying that work is stressful, a hundred times more than studying in school. Kangjun doesn’t know how that would feel, but he believes his mother.  
  
He should have asked. Said something. Said the right thing, maybe. But Kangjun wouldn’t have known. He couldn’t possibly. Things proceed.  
  
And they break apart.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun has had wet dreams before, of a faint figure moving beneath him, felt the heat burning steady in his abdomen, and woke up to sticky sheets.  
  
“It’s natural,” his mother says as she does the laundry, while Kangjun is absolutely mortified. He doesn’t want his mother to touch his come but he doesn’t know how to do the laundry.  
  
But this, Kangjun thinks hazily in his dream, this is different.  
  
Kangjun is just thrusting, rubbing, and the body beneath his is so hot he feels like he’s burning from the contact. They’re pressed up against each other, and Kangjun raises his face from the boy’s-- somehow he’s unfazed by this fact-- neck and he sees Hyunil looking up at him, mouth red and face flushed.  
  
Kangjun crushes their mouths together, tongues Hyunil’s mouth and ruts as Hyunil moans into his mouth. Kangjun can feel the familiar heat swelling inside him, like a hot current that runs through his entire being and he comes, his body stilling--  
  
Kangjun wakes up to sticky sheets and shame burning through his body.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun’s trying, but when Hyunil speaks Kangjun’s eyes just focus on his mouth, the curve of his lips until he forgets that he’s supposed to be listening.  
  
“Jun-ah?” Hyunil has his fork halfway to his mouth, sauce dripping back onto his plate.  
  
“Sorry.” Kangjun shakes his head a little. “What were you saying?”  
  
Hyunil opens his mouth again and Kangjun has to fight to tear his eyes off his lips-- red and puffy after they’d kissed-- to look at Hyunil’s eyes-- eyes closed in pleasure-- and Kangjun clenches his fist against the material of his pants so hard he’s pretty sure he rips something.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
The dreams don’t stop. They keep coming.  
  
Night after night, Kangjun dreams of touching Hyunil, kissing him until they’re both panting, and he wakes to soiled sheets and a pounding headache. Kangjun stares at Hyunil’s thin, bird-like neck, and thinks about marking it with bruises-- and then spends the rest of his day hating himself.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun comes across the flyer when he’s standing outside Hyunil’s classroom. Inside, the teacher drones on and Hyunil is nodding off in the back row. Kangjun has half a mind to toss a paper ball through the window, but his aim is terrible.  
  
Five minutes past the bell and the teacher is  _still_  talking. Kangjun knocks his head against the noticeboard, and jumps when his forehead collides with the hard protrusion of the back of a thumbtack. He glares at the offending object.  
  
His eyes drift lower, and the words “immersion program” and “two weeks” jump out at him. A school in Australia.  
  
Kangjun glances inside the classroom. Hyunil is sleepily rubbing his eyes, chin resting against the tabletop. Kangjun gazes at his smooth nape until the teacher dismisses the class and Hyunil comes bounding up to Kangjun.  
  
“Did you miss me?” Hyunil’s eyes are still watery from sleep, and the dream from last night surfaces in Kangjun’s mind again.  
  
“No, why would I,” Kangjun replies.  
  
“What an ass.” Hyunil shoves him playfully.  
  
“You love my ass.”  
  
“Do not, yours isn’t even perky.”  
  
Kangjun jumps a little at that. “You check out my ass?” And that must sound a little off because Hyunil does not laugh at him and tell him it’s weird, he just looks at him, eyes darting everywhere but Kangjun’s.  
  
“I’m hungry, let’s go eat or something,” Hyunil says, a little too loudly.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun opens his front door after school to hear an almighty crash from the kitchen. Then yelling, more yelling. His mother’s voice rising in pitch and volume, and Kangjun’s eardrums sting a little.  
  
“The  _fuck_  is this?” Kangjun’s mother hisses, one hand raising two glass bottles-- they look like bokbunja ju bottles, but Kangjun can’t be sure-- and the other hand scrunching the tablecloth.  
  
“Don’t swear, love,” his father mumbles, eyes not meeting his wife’s.  
  
Kangjun presses himself against the door frame, unable to tear himself away.  
  
“Don’t--” His mother cuts off with a harsh laugh. “Don’t  _swear_? Don’t change the topic, why don’t you?”  
  
“It’s just a couple of bottles.”  
  
“Today. Don’t think I don’t know about the bottles I just cleared this morning from underneath the kitchen sink.”  
  
His father turns away from her. “I don’t have time for this.” He grabs his coat and brushes past Kangjun on his way out.  
  
“You don’t have time for this, but you sure have time to get yourself shit drunk, don’t you?” Kangjun’s mother yells after him.  
  
The car door slams. The migraine Kangjun has is worsening by the second. He turns to go to his room.  
  
“Jun-ah?” He turns to see his mother peering at him from the kitchen.“I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”  
  
Kangjun doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to say. He just wants to go nap for half an hour before he starts on his homework. His mother looks at him, face weary, and Kangjun gathers the remaining strength he has to smile at her.  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun puts his name on the sign-up sheet.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun gathers his courage during lunch the next day.  
  
“Did you hear about the exchange program?” he asks tentatively.  
  
“Yeah.” Hyunil spoons a bit of rice into his mouth. “Hyemi told me about it. She’s flying off next week.”  
  
Kangjun takes a deep breath, and says, “So am I.”  
  
The spoon that’s halfway to Hyunil’s mouth stills.  
  
“You didn’t tell me.”  
  
“I--” Kangjun searches for an excuse, and finds none. “Forgot.”  
  
Hyunil bites his lips, the pink fading into white from the pressure. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  
  
“I forgot, alright.” Kangjun doesn’t like how Hyunil’s expression darkens.  
  
“I don’t believe you,” Hyunil says, and goes back to his lunch.  
  
“Hyunil-ah.” Kangjun tries to get Hyunil to look at him again, but his best friend merely focuses on finishing his food. Kangjun even tugs on his sleeve, but Hyunil shuffles away and stands up. He throws the remaining food into the trash bin, and heads back to class alone.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun peers out of his classroom five minutes before his class lesson and feels his stomach drop.  
  
Hyunil’s class lets out early. He remembers that Thursdays are the days when Hyunil waits for him. Hyunil walks past his classroom windows, past the first and second windowpanes--  _look at me, turn around, please_ \-- and Hyunil vanishes from view.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun bolts out of his classroom the moment his teacher dismisses him, and runs, ten minutes late, up the familiar street to both their homes.  
  
His footsteps echo so loudly in his ears.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“You sure are restless today, Jun-ah,” Hyemi teases.  
  
“What?” Kangjun replies, and continues craning his neck over the gaggle of students in the airport.  
  
“Why didn’t you ask Hyunil to come along?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Hyemi sighs. “I said, why isn’t Hyunil coming with you?”  
  
“He doesn’t want to.” Kangjun tries for a nonchalant shrug before he resumes looking through the crowd. His mother waves at him.  
  
Kangjun waves back and tries to suppress the knot of unhappiness in his chest.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
He steps off the bus and his gaze immediately falls on an older boy gazing anxiously towards the crowd.  
  
`  
  
Barom is like a huge breath of fresh air.  
  
He’s slightly awkward but really chatty. Barom asks a lot about Kangjun. He asks casually about his family and his friends, which include Hyunil. Kangjun is a little reluctant to talk about the last bit, but he gets better at containing certain details about their friendship. He talks about their days spent together but not about the nights he spends thinking about Hyunil. Kangjun thinks he might be boring Barom at some points in their conversations because Barom’s eyes sometimes glaze over and Kangjun stutters over his own embarrassment.  
  
The way Barom moves is so fluid Kangjun is a little in awe. He watches as Barom rubs the back of his neck when he comes up short in their conversation and the way he does it is still in a continuous slide, his head dipping slightly to accommodate the motion. It’s that kind of grace that Kangjun wishes he can have when he grows older.  
  
`  
  
Kangjun isn’t blind. He knows the kind of looks Barom sometimes shoots him. It makes his insides squirm with both delight and embarrassment. He’s pleased that someone like Barom thinks he’s attractive, and he admits that he’s fantasized about the two of them together, pressed against one another in the warm sunlight, maybe surrounded by yellow canola, wind buffeting their hair and clothes. And Kangjun imagines Barom turning towards him with that smile that makes him feel wanted.  
  
They are silent in the bus, but then Kangjun turns in time to catch the breathtaking field of gold. He can’t help uttering a small gasp at how vividly he can imagine them standing right in the middle of it.  
  
“You came here at the right time,” Barom says next to him, leaning in, and Kangjun fights the small thrill that runs through his body. “They’re going to harvest all this next month.” He stops and looks out of the window with Kangjun. The expanse of golden yellow is endless, stretched as far as Kangjun can see. He wishes it would never end.  
  
“You came at  _exactly_  the right time,” Barom says, almost to himself.  
  
“I did,” Kangjun replies without much mind. The gold cuts off abruptly to give way to small red and white houses. He can’t help but feel a little disappointed.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Knowing that it’s his last day with Barom makes Kangjun all kinds of jittery. Urgency coils around his frame, its weight against Kangjun’s shoulders, pushing him to do something. It’s the last day and nothing can go wrong. If it does, he can just leave this behind. Kangjun thinks about waiting in the airport for someone who never turned up, and his wince must have been visible because Barom turns to him and asks, “What’s wrong?”  
  
Kangjun looks at Barom’s eyes that are soft and concerned, and the contrast is so great to the steel in Hyunil’s when Kangjun last saw him that Kangjun breaks, and leans up to press his lips against Barom’s. He’s shaking a little, and Kangjun thinks Barom might feel the tremors.  _It’s just nerves_ , he thinks to himself, and wills himself to believe that he isn’t wrong about Barom. Kangjun doesn’t like to be wrong.  
  
And then Barom pushes him away. Kangjun thinks,  _it’s okay, it’s okay,_  and smiles for Barom. He just thought things would be different in a place so far removed from home. Kangjun doesn’t like to be wrong.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
Hyunil’s at the gate when Kangjun emerges from immigration. He rushes over, feet almost tangling with the luggage behind him.  
  
“Hey,” Kangjun greets breathlessly. Behind him, his teacher calls for him to come back for a final headcount, but Kangjun doesn’t care because Hyunil is smiling at him.  
  
“Welcome back,” he says. “Did you enjoy your trip?”  
  
Kangjun’s heart still feels heavy, but at this moment of time, he would like to forget.  
  
“It wasn’t the same without you.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
On the car ride back, Kangjun almost doesn’t register Hyunil’s apology when the flood of relief overtakes his entire body. He’s so relaxed that he falls asleep almost immediately with Hyunil next to him in the back of his father’s car.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun had hoped to leave behind his terrible memories in Australia, but even this is wishful thinking.  
  
“My mom told me to quit all my club activities,” Hyunil blurts out one afternoon, when they’re sitting side-by-side in Kangjun’s room, textbooks a mess on his bed.  
  
“So...”  
  
“Judo and piano. Soccer I get to keep because I need the credits.” Hyunil says the last word in a whisper, as though he can hardly believe it himself.  
  
Kangjun doesn’t know what to say.  
  
“Maybe it’s just for the semester?” He tries.  
  
“No.” Hyunil is shaking his head. “She says I have to focus on my  _studies_.” He spits out the last word with such venom it shocks Kangjun a little.  
  
“It’s oka--”  
  
“It’s not okay. It’s not okay. Don’t you see?” Hyunil says a little desperately. Kangjun understands immediately, but he also understands that there is nothing he can do. There is no value in words. Memories of sitting at the dinner table until the clock ticks to eleven, listening to his mother pour out her feelings to him, remind Kangjun that words only serve as temporary distractions. The bottles under the sink are growing in number. Perhaps it’s best to just move on. Hyunil’s mouth is so tense that Kangjun wants to press his thumbs against it, to smooth it into the smile that he’s so accustomed to seeing.  
  
Kangjun’s hand hovers over Hyunil’s cheek before he can catch himself, and when he does, he drops them to Hyunil’s shoulders to rub soothing circles instead. “You’re going to be fine,” Kangjun says, as he tries to lean as close to Hyunil as he can allow himself to.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
At dinner time, Kangjun’s father tells him the exact same thing. Kangjun tries not to laugh at the irony.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun usually spends Saturday nights trying to convince Hyunil that sneaking in one or two hours of movie time wouldn’t hurt their grades. It usually works, and today he has the latest blockbuster from Hollywood downloaded and ready to play.  
  
“It’s 10PM,” Hyunil grumbles from beside him.  
  
“If we keep the door closed, my mom will just think that we’re being extra studious today.” Kangjun presses play. Hyunil puts down his pen and sighs.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Apparently, the movie isn’t as exciting as Kangjun had hoped it would be. Hyunil is nodding off before the first explosion even begins. It’s not even that late.  
  
There is a really long scene that bores even Kangjun, full of forced dialogue and and bad acting that makes his eyebrows climb to his hairline. He’s about to make a sarcastic jibe at the lead actor to Hyunil before he turns to see that Hyunil has truly fallen asleep. He has his head pillowed against his arms, and--  
  
 _Is he talking in his sleep?_  
  
“Mom, I don’t want to,” Hyunil mutters, his voice slurred, and Kangjun snickers quietly to himself, digging out his phone from his pocket and pressing record. This will be fun.  
  
“Hey, hey Hyunil-ah,” Kangjun says, aiming the camera towards Hyunil’s face. “Do you wet the bed often?”  
  
“No,” Hyunil murmurs, “nonono.”  
  
Kangjun frowns. This isn’t exactly blackmail material.  
  
“Do you like anyone in your class?” Kangjun prods.  
  
Hyunil mutters again and Kangjun has to crane his neck to hear.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Yes,” Hyunil snuffles against the blanket.  
  
Kangjun grins evilly.  
  
“Who is it? Is it Hyemi?”  
  
“I don’t want to...” Hyunil trails off.  
  
“Is it Hyemi? I’m going to tell her!” At this, Hyunil kicks a little in protest. Then Kangjun’s mind supplies him with a really foolish idea.  
  
“Is it me?”  
  
“Who?”  
  
Conversing with sleeptalkers is harder than what he’d expected.  
  
“Is it Kangjun?”  
  
Hyunil merely hums, a soft sound of approval, and then lets out a loud snore.  
  
Kangjun quickly turns off the recording mode on his phone and turns back to the screen. The lead actor is swimming across a lake of some sort, his face grim and full of cuts. Behind him, a car bursts into flames. The credits roll. Kangjun feels his gut clench uncomfortably as he looks at the sleeping boy beside him. He wants to just let Hyunil sleep a little longer while he tries to clear his thoughts, but it’s so late and Hyunil’s mother is expecting him.  
  
“Hyunil-ah.” Kangjun reaches a hand out to shake his friend’s shoulder tentatively, and gasps when Hyunil curls slightly towards it. He wants to pretend that Hyunil did not just admit what he’d did, but Kangjun thinks about the little moments when he’d look at Hyunil and find him staring back with a strange expression on his face. Those looks made Kangjun flush a little and turn away. He tries to ignore it, really, the way Hyunil goes silent when Kangjun talks about Australia and Barom. He used to pretend that Hyunil was just tired, and not in the mood to talk.  
  
As Hyunil blinks and yawns, his eyes locked on him, Kangjun really doesn’t know what he should do.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun tries to be more discreet when he checks his phone to see if Barom actually replied to his email, but he’s been friends with Hyunil for years. And if there’s one thing about Hyunil that Kangjun admires, it’s his attention to detail.  
  
“Jun-ah, you have 20 minutes before we get off this bus so please write quickly,” Hyunil says next to him on the bus, and pokes pointedly at the homework on Kangjun’s lap.  
  
Kangjun stows his phone away in his pocket. No new messages. Kangjun wonders if he should delete that little email from his sent mail.  
  
“Jun,” Hyunil says again.  
  
“I know, I know,” Kangjun sighs. He manages to copy a page’s worth of answers from Hyunil before they have to get off. He finishes the rest during lunch time, and resolutely does not check his phone until after class.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun grumbles to himself outside his house door. He should have checked his phone before he’d gotten on the bus home. Now he’s stuck outside of his house with no dinner since his mom is taking Kanghye to the hospital because of the flu. He doesn’t even have enough money to buy something from the convenience store.  
  
His stomach grumbles. Kangjun sends a very angry text message.  
  
 _Locked out of my house! I AM SO FUCKING HUNGRY!!! >:-@_  
  
Seconds later, his phone beeps.  
  
 _I just ate dinner hahahaha_  
  
“What an asshole,” Kangjun mutters to himself.  
  
“Who’s an asshole now?” He almost jumps five feet into the air when he sees his parents approach from the elevator.  
  
“Uh. Nobody, mom.” It occurs to Kangjun that he should never let his phone be in the possession of his mother. It just might be the end of him if she ever finds out how to navigate through his text messages.  
  
His mother eyes him suspiciously. “Don’t swear, Junnie-ah, you’re only fourteen.”  
  
“Oh, let him,” Kangjun’s father chuckles beside her. “Boys will be boys, after all.”  
  
His mother rolls her eyes and unlocks the door. “I hope you’re hungry, Jun-ah, I bought takeaway.” Kangjun’s stomach almost roars in happiness.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
The next time he sees Barom, it’s in the minimart ten minutes from his and Hyunil’s house. Kangjun is surprised, but he is, for the most part, extremely embarrassed. To think he just deleted the email in his sent box a few nights ago when the pressure from school got too great. It felt good then.  
  
Now, Kangjun stares at the email from one Barom Yu, asking him out for coffee--  _Just fifteen minutes. You’re pretty busy right, Kangjun-sshi?_ \-- and snorts at its contents.  _Don’t do this out of pity. I don’t need it._  
  
Somehow he ends up going. Hyunil insists that he goes along, so here they are, sitting in little chairs outside Starbucks with their paper cups and tiny straws.  
  
“How’re you?” Barom says, and clears his throat.  
  
“I’m good,” Kangjun replies distractedly, eyes on the way Hyunil is texting rapidly on his phone. Kangjun doesn’t know how he should feel about this. The thought of Hyunil losing interest in him spikes urgency in his belly.  
  
Kangjun forces himself to focus on Barom’s face as he tries to continue this flagging conversation. “So how’s English lessons?” Barom asks.  
  
Kangjun winces. “Not so good.”  
  
Barom perks up at this. “I can help you, if you don’t mind. I have some time between sleeping and practicing with the crew.”  
  
Kangjun is about to agree when Hyunil throws his phone down on the table with a loud clatter, and says, “I’m going to the toilet.” He proceeds to shoot a glare at Barom and walks off.  
  
“Your friend is.” Barom waves his hand in the air as he tries to come up with a word to substitute  _really, really rude_. Kangjun sighs.  
  
“We have a lot of homework to do, and it’s getting late. Hyunil’s mother wants him home in fifteen minutes.” She’s actually out of town for the week, but Barom doesn’t need to know that.  
  
“Uh, okay. I’ll see you around, then,” Barom says and Kangjun is rather disappointed to see how obviously awkward Barom is, his movements jerky and unpracticed. Maybe he simply wanted to see something so much that he’d imagined it in Barom two years ago.  
  
“See you.” Kangjun manages a little wave before Hyunil drags him out of the door. Once they’re outside, Kangjun turns to Hyunil. “Hey, what was that about?”  
  
Kangjun knows what it was about, very well, in fact. But it’s so out of character for Hyunil to act this way that he just has to call him out on it.  
  
“What was what about.” Hyunil is gazing at the ground as they walk up the hill back home.  
  
“Being a complete ass every time Barom-sshi opens his mouth.”  
  
“I’m not the asshole over here.” Hyunil has his mouth set in a stubborn line. “He’s the one who never emailed you back until that meeting two days ago in the mini mart.”  
  
He has a point. “What if I just want to meet up, for old times’ sake?”  
  
“You know what.” Hyunil looks at him with such a fierce expression that Kangjun wants to give in for a moment, but then Hyunil’s eyes dim. “Nevermind,” he says, “let’s go home.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun does see Barom around. At about three in the morning that night, Kangjun has the most ridiculous idea as he stares at his English homework.  
  
 _Can you tutor me in English, Barom-sshi?_  He sends the email and then goes to sleep. Kangjun half-expects Barom to refuse, come up with an excuse about how busy he is, but Barom emails him back with a phone number and a place they can meet the next morning.  
  
Kangjun doesn’t know what to think. He asks his mother, and of course she tells him that it’s a good thing he’s willing to learn. But maybe Kangjun only asks for the opinions he wants to hear.  
  
He attends the first lesson with trepidation. The lesson is one hour, and if Barom brings up Australia Kangjun might just crawl under the table and hide in embarrassment. But Barom doesn’t, just teaches him sentence structures and gives him extra problems to work on. They wrap up an hour later with absolutely no mention of anything else but homework.  
  
“Thank you for today, Barom-sshi.” Kangjun bows. Barom follows and it’s like their first meeting in Australia all over again. Kangjun is reminded of the kiss in the bathroom again, but it’s also not something he can forget easily, after all. To have the evidence of the one mistake he thought he could leave behind him right in front of him, now, is more than a little jarring. It’s like no matter where he turns, the recklessness he possessed two years will always be in his shadow.  
  
Kangjun doesn’t understand why he asks for another lesson in the following week. Hyunil is not happy when Kangjun tells him about it. Kangjun doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’s hoping to get, or what he’s waiting for.

 

 

`

 

 

Now that Kangjun knows how Hyunil feels towards him, he can’t help but analyse everything his friend does.  
  
When Hyunil does this little thing with his mouth as he smiles at Kangjun, Kangjun just remembers the slurs his brother makes during dinner time about some of the less... _masculine_  counterparts in the same company as him.  
  
His father will sip his wine, and his mother will hum occasionally.  
  
Kangjun remembers pressing his lips against Barom’s, months ago, and tries not to show his shame.  
  
Here, he can see the expression on Hyunil’s face clearly. Kangjun feels his heart leap a little. He doesn’t know if it’s hope or dread. He settles for smiling back at Hyunil, a little awkwardly, his mouth wobbly from the confusion in his head, but Hyunil’s grin becomes that much brighter.  
  
Kangjun turns away. He can feel how Hyunil’s smile fades immediately from his face, and his friend tugs at Kangjun’s shirt. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Kangjun sighs. “I’m just tired.”  
  
“Yeah,” Hyunil says, head settling into the crook of Kangjun’s neck. The bus rattles along the road, jostling the both of them. “Me too.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Hyunil really does fall asleep everywhere.  
  
They’re riding the bus home together after a gruelling hagwon session and Kangjun’s head is just  _pounding_  from the amount of information he’s had to absorb. Next to him, Hyunil’s mouth is open so wide Kangjun thinks he could catch flies in there, even on this air-conditioned bus. Before he can think about what he’s doing-- he’s so prone to doing just that-- he reaches forward to cup his hand against Hyunil’s jaw in an effort to close his mouth. It doesn’t work.  
  
Hyunil turns his head to settle against Kangjun’s collarbone, and Kangjun sighs.  
  
 _It’s okay,_  he thinks.  _We’re friends. That’s all._  
  
When Hyunil finally wakes up from a particularly violent jerk from the bus, he stiffens, and then relaxes with a small smile that Kangjun catches from the corner of his eye. Kangjun clears his throat and returns to his Korean textbook.  
  
If Hyunil is a little touchier than usual when they walk up the hill back home, Kangjun doesn’t really notice.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun is walking home after his weekly lesson with Barom when he hears from behind him, “Oh hey! What a coincidence!”  
  
Of course the apartment Barom's rented is one street from Kangjun's.  
  
“The fifth floor is a terrible floor to stay on,” Barom tells him before they part ways. “I don’t know how you cope.”  
  
“You get used to it, after a while.” Kangjun shrugs, and waves goodbye.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Hyunil gets a confession from a classmate in their last year of middle school.  
  
 _Really,_  Kangjun thinks as Hyunil follows Eunmi out of the class,  _she picked a great time to do this, this thing that has such a big propensity to go wrong._  
  
Twenty minutes later, Eunmi comes back with a smile pasted on her face that just makes her look even more brittle.  
  
“It’s okay, I’m fine,” she reassures her friends. “It was worth a shot.”  
  
Hyunil slides open the door five minutes later looking unhappy and sincerely apologetic. Kangjun has to admire his courage to face the fifteen pairs of eyes glaring at him when he steps into the classroom.  
  
He slips into his seat and nods stiffly at Eunmi, who just smiles sadly in return.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“So.” Kangjun pokes Hyunil’s side playfully. “What was that about this morning?”  
  
Hyunil looks up from his still half-full lunchbox. “She confessed. I rejected her.” He goes back to picking at his food.  
  
“Why don’t you accept her? She’s quite pretty, you know. She’s the top scorer for last semester, and we all know how loaded her family is,” Kangjun teases.  
  
“I just don’t like her, okay.” Hyunil says, voice thick. “Besides, the exams are in a month. I don’t have the time.”  
  
“So practical, my Hyunil-ah,” Kangjun sighs dramatically, hands clutched against his chest for maximum effect.  
  
Instead of laughing, Hyunil just coughs and turns away. Kangjun thinks back on what he’s said, and  _oh._  He really shouldn’t have said that.  
  
“Let me borrow your chemistry notes, mine are a mess,” Kangjun says, desperate to change the topic.  
  
“Yeah, okay.” Hyunil’s mouth relaxes in relief.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Two weeks later, Kangjun is swearing at his notes while Hyunil hums to the song playing on his iPod. “What did you say?” Hyunil asks distractedly as he finishes yet another question.  
  
“I said, fuck-- I mean.” Kangjun lowers his voice to a whisper, just in case his mother overhears from the living room. “Fucking complex numbers.”  
  
“I know, right.”  
  
“You’re not even listening.”  
  
“Mhmm.”  
  
“Help me, won’t you.”  
  
“Mhmm.”  
  
Kangjun rips Hyunil’s notebook away from the table.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Teach me and I’ll return it to you,” Kangjun says with a sickly sweet smile.  
  
“I need to study too, Jun-ah.” Hyunil scrabbles at Kangjun’s arm.  
  
“I need to know how I’m going to solve this question, Hyunil-ah.”  
  
“Give it here!” Hyunil jumps, his elbow almost knocking into Kangjun’s face.  
  
Kangjun cackles and stretches his hand as far as he can away from Hyunil. Hyunil huffs and grips his forearm and yanks it right back.  
  
“Hey,” Kangjun protests as Hyunil plucks the notebook from his clutches.  
  
Hyunil whistles to the tune of Juliette and writes the number ‘3’ neatly on a new page.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“You are of no help,” Kangjun says to Hyunil when he’s tying his shoelaces at the front door.  
  
“I try,” Hyunil says drily, and then straightens.  
  
“Next time, we’re going to your house. I take too many breaks when I’m at home,” Kangjun grumbles.  
  
Hyunil’s shoulders tense immediately at that. “N-no, my house is too messy,” he says, staring wide-eyed at Kangjun, the very same look that crosses his face each time Kangjun brings up Hyunil’s house, or his parents, for that matter.  
  
“You’ve said that for about a million times, Hyunil-ah. I’ve never been to your house before.” Kangjun musters up his aegyo. “Bbuing--”  
  
“No, don’t do that.” Hyunil turns away to leave.  
  
“Do you ever clean your room?” Kangjun yells at his retreating back.  
  
“It’s cleaner than yours will ever be!” Hyunil shouts back.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
The next day, they try the school library that opens till midnight just for the third-years.  
  
“There, isn’t this a cleaner and conducive place to study?” Hyunil says.  
  
Kangjun gnaws on his pen, too busy solving the question in front of him to answer.  
  
“Yes it is,” Hyunil sighs, and goes back to his own work.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
They leave after midnight, when the librarian has to chase all the students without a signed permission slip for overnight stays.  
  
“My head is so dizzy, Jun-ah,” Hyunil mumbles, his hands gripping the material of his school shirt and his forehead resting against Kangjun’s back. Kangjun is essentially just dragging him along the sidewalk to the bus stop.  
  
“I’m tired, too, and you’re so heavy,” Kangjun complains, wriggling a little to shake him off. Hyunil can be a complete leech if he wants to. Now, he plasters his entire front against Kangjun’s back and does this awkward waddle, as if squeezing past a crowd of people that has pushed them together like glue. But it’s 1AM and there are only two students ahead of them.  
  
Hyunil wraps his arms around Kangjun’s waist so they’re now waddling together. Hyunil’s mouth is right against Kangjun’s ear, the warm puffs of air sending a small shiver rippling through his body. Kangjun sincerely hopes Hyunil doesn’t manage to catch that because he wouldn’t be able to explain if Hyunil asked.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun is still not used to staying at school till 9PM. The day usually goes by in a blur and it leaves his head pounding by the time he finishes his last lesson. His eyelids are sliding shut of their own accord and it would be so easy to just fall asleep for one second--  
  
Someone snores in front of him. a loud, resonating sound, and Kangjun is jolted wide awake.  
  
Kangjun shuffles the papers on his table so the teacher walking down his row doesn’t notice anything amiss. His father would be livid if he found out that his son had been nodding off in class.  
  
It’s a good thing that he gets to choose his desk during supplementary lessons. Beside him, Hyunil is on page six. Kangjun sighs at the three printed on the bottom left of his page. Sitting beside Hyunil makes Kangjun work harder just to keep up. It’s a good effort. His parents would be proud.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Everyone who signed up for the school’s overnight study program has fifteen minutes to shower. They’re to report at the study hall in their middle school’s hostel on time.  
  
“It’s not nearly enough,” Hyunil complains to him. “I still smell.”  
  
“You always do.”  
  
Hyunil shoves him, hard, so that Kangjun’s pen goes flying across the page in a line that makes him swear up a storm.  
  
“Keep it down, boys, keep it down.” The teacher on patrol tonight is in a good mood. Usually, they carry a roll of papers to smack misbehaving students upside down the head. Usually, Kangjun is the only one who gets hit. Hyunil would just laugh at him.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Kangjun sleeps through his entire history class.  
  
Hyunil can only watch from the last row as his friend is smacked, this time with the white board marker.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
Bad habits are hard to quit, because Kangjun carries his habit of sleeping in class from middle to high school. The teachers are visibly displeased by his lack of effort, but in Kangjun’s defence, it’s because he spends every night studying an extra hour more than most of his friends. Some teachers just read from the textbook, and Kangjun gets bored out of his mind because he’d already done his pre-reading. There is practically nothing he gains from staying awake. His grades aren’t terrible, either, so that must count for something.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
The school calls his parents about his habit in class and he only finds out when he gets home that day. His father is sitting on the couch facing the TV. Behind him, his mother fiddles nervously with the silverware on the dining table.  
  
Kangjun doesn’t notice it, at first. He goes to put his bag down in his room and pauses his music player. The silence looms over him, settling against his skin like the dust of something he had long forgotten.  
  
“Jun-ah,” his mother calls from the living room. “Your father and I have something we need to discuss with you.”  
  
Kangjun steps out of his room, and feels as if the dust has become so thick it’s clogged up his nose and gathered around his ankles, dragging him down onto the marble floor.  
  
“Kangjun-ah,” his father sighs, as though Kangjun has disappointed him greatly. The cane is laid out beside him. Kangjun’s mind is reeling now, trying to think of any and every instance that could have gotten his father so displeased.  
  
As much as Kangjun hates himself for thinking about it later on, he wishes his parents were still quarrelling because it means that his mother wouldn’t be the one gripping his forearms, holding his hands, palms skyward.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
His fingers still sting, and Kangjun has to bite his lips so he won’t cry out when he grips his pen. His father is right; the pain does deter him from sleeping.  
  
Kangjun hates history more than ever today, because history requires him to take notes non-stop and halfway through the class he gasps so loudly in pain that the entire class whips back to look at him.  
  
He manages to pull a smile on his face, and his classmates turn right back around. It’s best to avert their eyes and not ask any questions they don’t want answers to. The teacher goes back to writing on the whiteboard.  
  
Hyunil doesn’t turn around with the rest of the class. In fact, he makes sure that they make eye contact before Kangjun goes back to his notes.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
They eat lunch and now Kangjun hates lunch too, because Hyunil is sitting right across him and while his friend might be unobservant, Kangjun’s constant flinching will surely give him away. But after two mouthfuls of soup, Kangjun gives up and puts his spoon down. His fingers are on fire.  
  
“Let me see,” Hyunil says, and takes Kangjun’s hands in his. Kangjun barely has time to pull away before Hyunil is gripping his hands so tightly that Kangjun whimpers a little. “Was-was it your parents?” Hyunil falters, and Kangjun wants to laugh at how quickly he changes from determined to hesitant after seeing the red marks criss-crossing his skin. He withdraws his own hands easily and places them palms up under the table.  
  
“Father, actually.”  
  
Hyunil lets out a bitter laugh at that. “Who else.”  
  
“How would you know that? I didn’t even tell you anything.” Kangjun is annoyed at both Hyunil and at himself now, but he can’t figure out why the emotion surges up so easily. It’s not like he has a duty to defend his parents from criticism.  
  
Hyunil shrugs. “I just guessed.”  
  
Kangjun touches one particularly red line gently. “Right.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Has your mom ever caned you?” Kangjun asks on their way home, his hand on Hyunil’s shoulder instead of the grab-hold. It’s too painful for him to grip the little plastic handle.  
  
Hyunil looks surprised at that question. “Yes, but that was a long time ago. About homework and test scores.”  
  
“It’s still about the same thing now, isn’t it? What made her stop?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Hyunil shrugs. “We don’t exactly talk about things like that. She says that I’m old enough to know what I should do.”  
  
Kangjun raises an eyebrow, and then the train rattles rather violently. Kangjun has to tighten his hold on Hyunil’s shoulder, but not without a small wince.  
  
“Are you okay?” Hyunil asks.  
  
“No,” Kangjun sighs. “I don’t think I can do my homework today.”  
  
“Do you have balm in your house?”  
  
“No, but I can get it downstairs later. Actually, I don’t want to go home right now.”  
  
Hyunil looks at him in a way that is too understanding. “Do you want to come by my house?” he offers. “Just to study for a bit?”  
  
Kangjun perks up a little at that. Hyunil’s never asked him to come over before.  
  
“Sure,” he says, and hisses under his breath as the rocking of the train makes him to press his palm harder against Hyunil’s shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
For all Hyunil’s said about his home, it is neat, warm, and rather cozy. It reminds Kangjun of his own, but he would rather not think about that right now.  
  
While Hyunil is in the kitchen preparing some drinks and snacks for their study session, Kangjun walks around, carefully examining the part of Hyunil’s life that he did not have access to until now.  
  
He passes the kitchen, the living room, and then finally finds a room that must be Hyunil’s. The study table at the left wall is filled with textbooks, worksheets and so many notebooks Kangjun feels an urge to buy everything his friend has and do them all, too.  
  
Kangjun studies the picture frames placed neatly at Hyunil’s bedside, and feels a thrill when he sees the two of them in each other’s arms. It must have been when they were seven or so, when Kangjun’s mother had a budding interest in photography and went around taking pictures of everything. Most of them were of Kanghye. But she had brought her camera to school that day, and had Kangjun and Hyunil pose for her. Kangjun grabbed Hyunil by the middle while she pressed the shutter. She must have developed it and sent to Hyunil as a gift.  
  
“I’ve got some frozen peas for you, if you want them,” Hyunil says from the doorway.  
  
Kangjun starts, and then takes the ice-cold package from him. “Thanks.”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun knows he’ll get in a lot of trouble tomorrow. His hands are swelling badly and Hyunil had taken one look at him before snatching the pen out of Kangjun’s hands and forcing him to memorize chemistry instead.  
  
“But this is due tomorrow!” he wails at Hyunil. He is so tempted to just throw the pack of frozen peas in Hyunil’s face.  
  
“We also have a chemistry quiz tomorrow,” Hyunil mutters from his math practice sets.  
  
“So what are you doing, then.”  
  
“Math, and chem after you leave. You’re so noisy, Jun-ah.” Hyunil bats a hand at Kangjun.  
  
“You’re the noisy one,” Kangjun retorts, and flips a page.  
  
Hyunil just hums.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
 **2011, spring**  
  
They’re twenty minutes into their sophomore mountain trip and Kangjun is already bored.  
  
At the front of the bus, their new form teacher is leading the class in an extremely off-tune rendition of a campfire song, which in Kangjun’s opinion, should be reserved for campfires and nothing else.  
  
Beside him, Hyunil is singing along, but at least he’s in tune. Kangjun stuffs his earbuds into his ears and tries not to grumble too much.  
  
Hyunil notices. Of course he does.  
  
“Jun-ah?” He prods Kangjun hopefully, puppy eyes at the ready. Where did he even learn that?  
  
Kangjun grouses out a few lines and Hyunil slings an arm around him in encouragement.  
  
When the song finally ends, the teacher starts on the cheers. Kangjun groans and buries his face into his hands. Hyunil just laughs at him, the bastard.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
After the mountain hike, museum visit and campfire, Kangjun is exhausted enough to actually want to go to bed. But unfortunately, Kangjun knows that there will be shenanigans. There will be idiots who refuse to sleep. There will probably also be alcohol because he saw quite a few classmates show their friends the cans of beer they'd smuggled from their older siblings. Kangjun isn't averse to trying something new, but they have to go back home tomorrow and the thought of returning to his parents makes his head hurt. He just wants to  _sleep_.  
  
Kangjun is supposed to share the tent with two other boys and Hyunil, but none of them are anywhere. He sends a text to Hyunil before flopping onto the hard ground.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
It's about three in the morning when he wakes again, for no apparent reason. Kangjun blinks blearily at his phone. There are no messages, save for one sent by Hyunil at 1.10AM.  
  
 _Come outside._  
  
Kangjun belatedly realises that there are two other boys sleeping soundly squashed next to each other in the tent, but neither silhouette resembles Hyunil's. He pushes his way out clumsily, mumbling apologies to the person whose foot he steps on.  
  
Once outside, the crashing of the waves becomes a roar in his ears, but the beach is calm, bathed in the soft glow of pre-dawn. Kangjun is momentarily floored by the sight of the sprawling expanse of white backed by the indigo sky, and wishes Hyunil could be right here with him to share this moment.  
  
And he is.  
  
Hyunil spots him from the edge of the water and comes stumbling over, the lack of grace belying his state of intoxication. When Hyunil reaches him, Kangjun can smell the alcohol and he just wants to flinch away. But Hyunil presses a lukewarm bottle into Kangjun's hands and his hands are on Kangjun's waist, lightly stroking.  
  
"Have some," Hyunil says into Kangjun's ear, and Kangjun has to force down the sudden lump in his throat.  
  
He holds the bottle tightly and takes a sip. It burns going down and Hyunil giggles into his neck, arms wrapping around Kangjun's waist. Kangjun's never noticed until now just how clingy Hyunil is.  
  
"Drink it quickly," Hyunil sighs, "the teacher's going to get up and we have to throw everything away." He waves in a sloppy gesture behind him, but there isn't anyone but the two of them outside their tents.  
  
The waves crash onto the shoreline and drowns out the words forming on Kangjun's lips. He later decides that they weren't important, anyway.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun has suspected that he’s a lightweight, but he's never known until now how much because he's never drank before this day. And yet, here he is, the almost empty bottle swinging lazily from his hand as he sits with Hyunil facing the sea.  
  
It's probably comforting to listen to the waves, the surge and recede of the tide a rhythmic pattern that could lull him to sleep. Kangjun turns to tell Hyunil just that, but when he turns, his friend is looking at him, eyes half-mast and lips pursed. Eyes flickering from Kangjun’s mouth to meet his gaze.  
  
Kangjun's so dizzy and feeling so stupid and brave and perhaps everything at once and he just leans over to kiss Hyunil right on the mouth.  
  
His friend sits stock still for several seconds, and Kangjun panics a little when his mind clears, but then Hyunil is kissing right back. Kangjun falls into it, his hands coming to wrap around Hyunil’s waist, mouth pressing yet unsure. His fingers curl into Hyunil’s skin and Hyunil leans in so they're chest to chest, and Hyunil has one hand in Kangjun's hair, smoothing out the ends and caressing.  
  
This is his first kiss. Kangjun doesn't really regret it, because when they wake up next to each other, Hyunil flushes a deep red, but his eyes are smiling, his neck bent in a graceful arc as he leans his forehead against Kangjun’s. Kangjun feels the sweep of his friend’s eyelashes, the swell of his cheek, and feels his mind fall silent, at last.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
They don't talk about it. Or rather, Kangjun doesn't talk about it, because he is reminded of his brother's slurs and mother's silence when they talk about things like this during supper. Hyunil isn't too happy with the non-label they have, even between the two of them. Kangjun doesn't know how to make it up to him when he’s still struggling between ‘like’ and ‘love’. It’s even harder when Hyunil looks at him with such adoration that it fills Kangjun with wonder and fear.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun doesn’t fall asleep in class anymore, but Hyunil is really distracting. Kangjun finds himself daydreaming as he stares at the back of Hyunil’s head, thinking about that morning next to the sea, and how Hyunil held his hand all the way back home. He had been scared that someone would question their closeness after the MT, but nothing happens. Kangjun feels like he’s too paranoid.  
  
On some days during lunch and dinner, Kangjun forgets and whispers so close to Hyunil’s ear that Hyunil jerks away in shock. Kangjun returns to his food, guilt gnawing away in his stomach. He barely takes two bites before Hyunil is scooping the rest of the rice into his mouth and standing up.  
  
“Hey, you’re done already?” Kangjun says, trying to stand up with Hyunil. He’s not very hungry.  
  
“Yup. Are you done, too?”  
  
“Kind of.”  
  
“I need to go to the bathroom. Come with me?” Kangjun follows.  
  
Then they’re sitting on the toilet lid in one of the stalls and Kangjun is sitting on Hyunil’s lap with Hyunil’s tongue in his mouth.  
  
The bell for fifth period has never been so resonating.  
  
Kangjun stumbles to his feet and sees Hyunil panting, eyes lidded with desire. Kangjun turns around to straighten his clothes.  
  
They’re running out of time.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Year two ends and Hyunil has taken to coming over in the mornings. At least they have those few minutes before school to greet each other with a kiss.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
 **2012, spring**  
  
  
Kangjun’s brushing his hair in front of the mirror when he sees Hyunil stride up from behind and envelop him in an almost crushing hug, his nose pressing against the juncture of Kangjun’s neck.  
  
“What’s wrong,” Kangjun asks softly. He turns to rest his cheek against his boyfriend’s forehead. “Hyunil-ah?”  
  
Hyunil doesn’t answer. His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth pushed into an unhappy moue. He looks like he’s concentrating, as if memorising this moment, between night and dawn, the few minutes they have before school begins each morning. Kangjun wants to know what’s happened, but he also doesn’t want to break the moment. So they stand there, Kangjun’s back against Hyunil’s chest, until Kangjun’s mother calls for them.  
  
“We’re almost done,” Kangjun calls to her, and he turns to press a quick kiss to Hyunil’s mouth.  
  
When he pulls away, Hyunil still has his eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, as if savouring the intimacy, as if they had never kissed before this, as if they will never kiss again after this.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Walking with Hyunil back home from school is something that Kangjun enjoys doing, but it doesn’t apply when they go to school together. School begins each morning with them squeezing into the train carriage with the working adults. Usually, Hyunil stands facing Kangjun, and they are shuffled so close together that if Kangjun leans forward just a little, his mouth will collided with Hyunil’s chin. The morning crush is almost unbearable, and sometimes Kangjun has to lean against Hyunil’s chest and pretend he isn’t enjoying it.  
  
What makes it worse is the staring.  
  
At the age of seventeen, Hyunil’s skin is pale and spotless despite his time spent under the sun, while soccer practice left his limbs corded with muscle and Kangjun burning with jealousy. His ego takes a blow in practically every shower after gym class.  
  
Now, as they hurry towards the train, the crowd ripples as Hyunil moves past them. Kangjun tries not to roll his eyes too conspicuously at the ladies with gaping mouths. The door closes behind them, and Hyunil sighs in relief, the hot gust of air hitting Kangjun’s nose.  
  
“Thank god, Hyunil-ah. I thought we were going to be late for sure,” Kangjun says, eyes still on the woman beside them who is flat-out staring at Hyunil. Hyunil smiles, oblivious, and in a moment Kangjun forgets about the stares and looks, really looks at Hyunil’s eyes. The peak hours have their benefits, Kangjun supposes.  
  
Hyunil has expressive eyes. Kangjun loves to stare into them when they put their heads so close together Kangjun almost goes cross-eyed. They curve into perfect crescents when Hyunil speaks or laughs. Sometimes Kangjun almost forgets that they’re in public and nearly puts a hand against Hyunil’s cheek in a way that’s way too intimate to be mistaken as an act of friendship.  
  
Kangjun wants to crack a joke with him, or even smile back, but people behind them are already staring at his friend. Hyunil is looking at Kangjun, waiting for a response he doesn’t want to give. He wants to shield Hyunil from all the eyes upon them; he doesn't want them to know Hyunil's name, or what they talk about, because Hyunil belongs to him and him alone.  
  
And here Kangjun violently derails his thoughts.  
  
Hyunil's hand stays on the sleeve of Kangjun's blazer all the way to school as their bodies sway to the rattle of the train. Before they alight, Kangjun allows himself one second of luxury to slip his little finger against Hyunil's hand.  
  
They don’t have much time for romance. Or very much time at all.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
The last year of high school is very much like that of middle school; they don’t get to sleep much and every waking moment is spent in school.  
  
Kangjun sleeps less in class, but maybe that’s because of the palpable tension in every single lesson. He feels like an asshole each time he rests his head against the table.  
  
They come out of this alive, the both of them. Of course they do. They’re posted to universities in Seoul, relatively well-placed institutions that his father begrudgingly approves of. That’s enough for Kangjun, because he’s leaving anyway. He’s not going to stay in a house teetering on its legs from his father’s alcoholism, his mother’s desperation and his brother’s apathy.  
  
Kanghye, though. Kanghye is the reason Kangjun goes back to Mokpo once every month.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun dreads going back every time, but Kanghye will bite his head off if he doesn’t turn up.  
  
“It’s a drag without you here,” she tells him when he fumbles for excuses.  
  
Kangjun doesn’t have the heart to tell her that things don’t get better if he comes back. Still, he’s carrying a bunch of clothes and food from Seoul for Kanghye and standing at his parents’ apartment’s front door. Kangjun has long ago made the distinction between what is his from theirs.  
  
There is yelling inside the apartment, but it’s faint so he can’t make out the words. Kangjun has half a mind to turn around and go. Still, he unlocks the door quietly. From here, he can hear the argument clearly. His mother is shouting at his father again, which is no surprise. Kangjun wonders if he even knows how to hide his stash of liquor properly.  
  
“--long do you think you can hide a child from us, you disgusting--”  
  
Kangjun almost slams his head against the wall in his haste to keep himself hidden behind the door.  
  
“Why are you--”  
  
“This isn’t about me.” Kangjun’s mother is hissing now, her words low and almost guttural. “This is about the woman you screwed nineteen years ago. This is about the child who has been in my home, growing up with my own. Don’t you  _dare_ \--”  
  
“Hyunil is--” Kangjun claps his hand against his mouth.  
  
“Calling him with such familiarity.” His mother laughs shrilly. “So you’ve been seeing him often, then? Don’t--”  
  
Kangjun turns around and closes the door behind him. Halfway down the flight of stairs, he breaks into a sprint.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Kangjun?”  
  
Kangjun looks up from his feet to see Hyunil looking at him worriedly from his front door.  
  
“But--” The words die at his lips. He was supposed to leave. Go somewhere else. Away from his father and mother and Hyunil. “I don’t understand. I’m not supposed to be here,” he says, not louder than a whisper.  
  
“Kangjun.” Hyunil takes his hand and brings him inside, and it’s so,  _so_  easy for Kangjun to curl his fingers around Hyunil’s. They’re warm, comforting, familiar.  
  
The door closes behind Kangjun with a soft sound, and he reluctantly tears his hand away from Hyunil’s. Hyunil reaches for him again, but stops midway when Kangjun shies away from his touch.  
  
“Did you know about...” He trails off, not trusting himself to finish the sentence.  
  
“Know what?” Hyunil’s expression shutters.  
  
Kangjun lets out a choked laugh. “What else would I be talking about, Hyunil? What  _else?_ ” He practically hisses the last word. Kangjun’s mind is spinning, his head feels light, and poisonous words just spill out of his lips before he can even stop himself. He doesn’t know if he even wants to bottle it all up.  
  
“Jun--”  
  
“How long.”  
  
“Jun, please.” Hyunil’s voice breaks a little, and his face is pale and frightened under the harsh light of the kitchen.  
  
“How. Long,” Kangjun grits out.  
  
“Years.”  
  
Kangjun exhales, his heart thundering in his ears like an erratic drum. “B-before...?”  
  
Hyunil gazes at him helplessly, as if pleading silently for him to stop. To stop with the questions, to stop forcing out answers that he’d kept locked away for so long. Kangjun doesn’t want to stop. He wants to know. He has the right to know.  
  
“And you still let me--” Kangjun can’t even bring himself to finish the sentence. He’d been fucking his own half-brother, night after night. “Why didn’t you say anything?”  
  
Hyunil leans against the sink, head bowed. “I wanted to give us a chance,” he whispers, and Kangjun can't help but snort with derision. Hyunil's eyes come up to meet Kangjun's, mouth trembling. “If the situation was reversed,” he says slowly, “would you tell me?”  
  
“Of course I--”  
  
“You wouldn’t, do you know why? Because nobody wants to be the person who tears an entire family apart.”  
  
Kangjun stops. Shame rips through his entire body like an ice bath that washes away the heat of his fury.  
  
“Kangjun, look at me.” He does, and Hyunil looks so sad, his frame drawn in on himself and arms wrapped around his own torso. Like he’s trying to comfort himself because there is no one to do it for him. “You have a father who loves you,” he begins, but Kangjun cuts him off.  
  
“He’s not my father. He doesn’t love me.”  _I don’t want to know such a man._  
  
Hyunil looks up so quickly that Kangjun startles a little. “Don’t talk about your father like that.”  
  
“You mean  _our_  father.”  
  
Hyunil closes his eyes at that. “Kangjun--”  
  
And then Kangjun remembers their first meeting, Hyunil’s transfer-- “Did your mother move here so she could keep a watch on us? Did she enrol you into the same kindergarten that I went to? Did she force you to make friends with me so she could monitor--”  
  
“Get out.” The words cut across Kangjun’s ramble so easily that Kangjun stops abruptly. Hyunil’s eyes are still closed, his body rigid in his stillness, and only then does Kangjun realise the things that came out of his mouth. He feels vaguely sick in the stomach.  
  
“Get. Out.” Hyunil enunciates each word so clearly that Kangjun falters. But he is too proud to beg.  
  
He lets himself out of the house.  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
Kangjun loiters around the playground of his kindergarten, kicking his feet at the rubber floor. It used to be sand, until the sand got wet and the teachers got tired of cleaning up after rambunctious kindergarteners and had the institution cover the playground with synthetic grass. In middle school, he’d come here after school and have supper with Hyunil by the swings sometimes.  
  
Kangjun wants to call him. He dials the number, pauses over the call button, deletes the number, and puts his phone back into his backpack. Then takes out his phone, dials the number again. He snorts at how quickly he dials the numbers. Muscle memory.  
  
Eventually, the sky gets dark and Kangjun’s phone runs out of battery.  
  
He goes to sit in the stairwell to his own apartment, and drifts in and out of sleep.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
He wakes up to a particularly loud blare of a car horn on the street. Kangjun rubs his face, hoping--  
  
The grey concrete staircase stares back at him. Kangjun buries his face into his arms, presses his nose against his forearm until he has to come up for air, gasping and tears streaming down his cheeks.  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
He watches the sun set from the small space between the door and the floor. It should be 5PM, and right on schedule, the elevator dings and a pair of shoes clicks down the corridor. Kangjun counts-- seventeen, eighteen, nineteen steps-- and the fear seizes him around the middle, clenches against his thundering heart.  
  
He turns and runs.  
  
  
`  
  
Barom opens the door and jumps a little when he sees Kangjun there.  
  
“Hey, Kangjun-sshi,” he says, and scratches his neck, perhaps for lack of something to do. “Do you need anything?”  
  
Kangjun tries to force down the embarrassment when he says, “Can you let me stay here for a while?”  
  
Barom’s mouth tightens, and Kangjun mentally slaps himself at his own brazenness. But Barom moves aside, holding the door wide open. “Come on in.”  
  
“Thank you,” Kangjun says, as sincerely as he can, and walks into the flat.  
  
To his left, the TV plays Sunday morning cartoons. Kangjun remembers the give of the soft leather of his couch, and the light illuminating the contours of his father’s brow. If Kangjun imagines it now, he might say that his father’s eyes had been shrouded in the shadows that night, mouth twisted in a cruel smirk. But he can’t exactly picture his father so, even now.  
  
He turns his back to the TV and waits for Barom to close the front door.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Barom makes dinner for him, and then heads out to meet up with his dance crew. Kangjun is glad that he’s left alone; he doesn’t want to talk right now.  
  
Barom doesn’t have a charger for Kangjun’s phone, so Kangjun settles for flipping through the TV channels until he’s so absorbed his mind is filled with nothing but the constant flicker of colours on the screen. But even that kind of release has a relapse, and when Barom comes home he finds Kangjun crying in the closet.  
  
“Kangjun-sshi.” Barom moves to pull him out.  
  
“Call me with familiarity, it’s weird like that,” Kangjun manages to choke out, stubbornly. He wipes the tear tracks furiously, until he can feel the painful pull of raw skin against the back of his hand.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Barom croons, voice gentle, pulling Kangjun’s hands away. Kangjun struggles to hide his face.  
  
“I need the bathroom,” he mumbles, and manages to push past Barom.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun walks out of the bathroom to see Barom on the couch, watching TV. When Barom sees him, he turns the TV off quickly and faces Kangjun.  
  
Kangjun braces himself.  
  
“Kangjun-ssh--”  
  
“Call me Jun,” Kangjun says. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he feels like he needs to say something so Barom won’t ask questions Kangjun doesn’t want to answer.  
  
“Jun-ah,” Barom concedes. “What’s wrong?”  
  
The words send a jolt down Kangjun’s spine so suddenly he gasps. Those moments on the bus are still so clear in his mind. Kangjun can almost see in his mind’s eye the shift of Hyunil’s leg against his as they sat together. The fluorescent lighting that shone from above was almost blinding.  
  
“Nothing,” Kangjun says, tears dripping down his nose. “Nothing, really.”  
  
“Did your parents kick you out?”  
  
Kangjun jumps at how straightforward Barom is, and turns to face him. “No. I left on my own.” He steadfastly refuses to look Barom in the eye.  
  
“Will you go back to college?” Kangjun starts at that.  
  
“I should, shouldn’t I,” he mumbles, more for his own benefit than Barom’s. He’s missed a week’s worth of lessons and he has a test next week. Briefly, Kangjun wonders if anyone’s noticed his absence. He’d like to think Taemin would, and Minwoo, too, but he’s not close to either of them. He’d spent most of his time visiting Hyunil in his dorm, and Kangjun can see the familiar scene playing like it’s right in front of him.  
  
Hyunil usually has his back to him, working on his assignments before he lets Kangjun distract him while Kangjun does his best to make sure that Hyunil  _will_  be distracted. Kangjun spends minutes that turn into hours waiting for Hyunil to finish his assignments so they can watch a movie together and then end up making out over the laptop. Kangjun didn’t mind waiting, all those times, because Hyunil would turn back to smile at him, and Kangjun could feel the tension and longing melt off his own bones. He can still picture the afternoon sun streaming in from the window as he gazed at Hyunil. Hyunil liked to sit facing the window, so when Kangjun looked at him, he had to try his best not to blink at the harshness of the sun’s rays. They streaked Hyunil’s hair with gold.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun thinks about telling Barom the truth over dinner. He swallows down his rice and opens his mouth and then chokes, and Barom has to come over to thump him hard on the back until he swallows that last grain of rice.  
  
They resume their dinner, but Barom keeps shooting him concerned glances. Kangjun would hate to think what kind of expression Barom would make if Kangjun told him that he slept with his own half-brother. He wonders if his sister knows about this. Kangjun bites down on the inside of his cheek. It was a good thing they didn’t have any time to indulge themselves in high school. His sister has a knack of coming over to Kangjun’s room uninvited. He wishes he could be home.  
  
“Barom-hyung.”  
  
Barom fumbles with his chopsticks, startled. “Yes, Jun-ah?”  
  
“On the first night I ran away--” Barom makes a small sound to show that he’s listening “--I went to sleep on the stairwell outside of my house.”  
  
Kangjun stares at his lap, but he can still see how Barom shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearly out of his depth. He inhales and continues.  
  
“I don’t,” he stutters as he thinks of how to phrase his words, “I don’t know why I want to go back there, even now, when I was the one who left. I don’t feel guilt, because I wanted to leave for reasons that I cannot control. Do you--do you get what I mean?”  
  
He looks at Barom desperately, hoping that he’ll know what to tell him. But he also feels as if he hasn’t said anything at all that’s worth a reply. Barom looks at him for a moment, his mouth pulled into a frown. Kangjun feels a flush creeping along his neckline.  
  
“Jun-ah. I’ve never told you why I’m here in Korea, have I?”  
  
Kangjun blinks in confusion. “No, you haven’t.”  
  
“If it’s any consolation, I get what you mean.” Barom looks at him with a gaze that Kangjun can’t turn away from. “Your home is comfortable to you. You want to go back to it because you spent your life inside its walls, around the people you know intimately.” Kangjun grits his teeth at that. Barom can’t possibly know how little Kangjun knows about his own father. “And despite what we tell ourselves as we leave them behind, we still look forward to the day we can come home.” Barom’s voice has grown hushed, his eyes half-lidded, perhaps reliving the memories he’d left back home.  
  
But Barom cannot understand him, because Kangjun doesn’t feel like he has a home to go back to. He remembers dreaming of Barom’s house years ago, remembers the way their arms brushed against each other as they sped past the canola fields. He had been brimming with excitement, then. Excitement for the things to come.  
  
He must have forgotten that he still had to go home.  
  
“It’s all very illogical, isn’t it. What destroys us keeps us feeling safe,” Barom finishes, and goes back to his food.  
  
Kangjun fiddles with his chopsticks. He realises he hasn’t been hungry since he started dinner.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Barom buys a phone charger for Kangjun. It’s when Barom tosses the little white plastic box at him that Kangjun realises how much he’s been mooching off him. The swirl of guilt doesn’t sit well with his dinner, but Kangjun presses it down to thank Barom, and finds a place to charge his phone.  
  
Fifty-one missed calls, seventeen messages.  
  
Kangjun scrolls past Hyunil’s text messages.  
  
 _Please take care of yourself. Don’t do anything foolish. I lo--_  
  
He calls his mother back, and reassures that he’ll come back home to see her.  
  
 _Where are you? Are you ok? I miss --_  
  
He texts Taemin to ask him for last week’s notes.  
  
 _I’ll explain everything, please come back--_  
  
He calls his sister, careful not to reveal anything about their father.  
  
 _I love you._  
  
Kangjun turns his phone off.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Eventually, Kangjun packs what little clothes he’s brought from the past few days and leaves a very concerned Barom behind.  
  
“Thanks for your help, hyung,” he tells Barom at the door. “I’ll see you around.”  
  
“If you have any problems, you can come to me,” Barom says hesitantly.  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kangjun tries to smile for him. Nothing’s fine, but he has people around him who need him to be. The phone in his back pocket feels heavy, but its weight is reassuring. He has things to do.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
He unlocks the front door to hear the harsh scrap of chair against the hardwood floor.  
  
“Jun-ah,” his mother mumbles, enveloping him into a hug before he can even put his bag down. “Welcome home.”  
  
“Hello, mom,” he says against her shoulder.  
  
She stands back to gaze at him, and it hits Kangjun now that his mother is so worn. Worn from age, worn from feeling too much, too often. Worn from the lines around her eyes to the hunch of her shoulders. Worn from her family that she gave to only to end up empty-handed.  
  
She steps away from him, her head bowed and tiny feet hobbling a little. Kangjun has to bite his lips so the film of water over his eyes doesn’t spill over.  
  
She smiles, the edges of her mouth flimsy. “Have you eaten yet?”  
  
Kangjun wants to say,  _It’s okay to cry in front of me, mom._  But perhaps he can pretend, for that moment, that he’s just returning home after school, to someplace normal.  
  
“No, but what’s for lunch?”  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Mom,” Kangjun says over the delicate sounds of china, “how’re you feeling?”  
  
His mother raises her head slowly to meet his eyes, and there it is again. Kangjun presses one fingernail against his thigh to hold it together. His mother sits hunched against her chair, and Kangjun vaguely wonders how long she’s been sitting like that.  
  
“I’m,” she mutters, so softly that Kangjun has to lean closer to hear her. “I’m coping.”  
  
“Where is dad?” Kangjun cringes at how blunt he sounds, but his mother barely bats an eyelash.  
  
“Somewhere. I don’t care.”  
  
“And how’s--”  
  
“Your sister? She knows, but she’s alright.”  
  
“That’s.” Kangjun grapples with words. “Good.”  
  
“It’s alright, for now.” His mother brings another spoonful of rice into her mouth.  
  
Kangjun waits for his mother to finish her food, and when she sighs and gets up to clean up. He feels a deep ache in his chest. He stands up quickly and collects them for her.  
  
He’s never had to wash the dishes, because he tried to help one too many times and broke things he wasn’t supposed to. Kanghye helps their mother, even though she broke so many over the years.  _It’s important for a girl to learn how to do the dishes,_  his father would say while he sat in front of the television, waving a glass of wine to illustrate his point. Kangjun shudders as a surge of anger courses through his body. And here he is, twenty years old and baffled by a simple household task. Upon reaching the sink, he realises that he doesn’t really know which sponge to use or the right amount of detergent. He tries to recall the texture of the plates when they’re handed out during dinner time, squeezes a bit of the liquid, and gets to work.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun finishes the dishes and then goes back to the dining room. He remembers that his mother always wiped the tables before and after they ate, so he goes back to fetch the faded yellow cloth she’d use. It’s still on the hanger where Kangjun remembers it to be.  
  
He wipes the table twice, just in case. His mother is still in her chair, her head bowed.  
  
“Kangjun-ah,” she sighs, a long exhale, before she stands up and takes the cloth from him. “Let me.”  
  
“It’s fine, mom, you don’t have to.” Kangjun moves to take it from her.  
  
His mother pauses. “I have to,” she says simply.  
  
Kangjun watches as she wipes the tables again, meticulously, with a hand pressed against his nose. The moisture drips down his cheeks anyway.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
The bus ride back to Seoul is noisy, filled with the rattling of the bus and the relentless push and pull of chatter, the volume surging and then diminishing with the passing hours. Kangjun likes it like this. That way, he can focus on the conversations around him instead of the ones he’s had recently.  
  
His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and it’s Barom, asking if he’s okay and  _where are you now?_  
  
Kangjun texts back,  _I’m on my way back._  Maybe it’s too soon to thank him again.  
  
He wonders if Hyunil is already back in Seoul. What are the odds that they might be on the same journey home?  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun’s walking back to university, thinking about the jobs he needs to take to afford living in the dormitories when he notices the flyer on the glass door.  
  
Five thousand won an hour. It’s not the best, but Kangjun pushes into the small cafe without leaving himself any time for doubt.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun spends the rest of the week in hell.  
  
On top of trying to catch up with the coursework he’s missed, he has work till 12AM everyday. Learning how not to burn himself with the cafe’s coffee machine is a skill that has never seemed so important before.  
  
Kangjun swears under his breath as he presses the button on the machine. The coffee comes out in a hiss that usually has him jumping about five feet in the air. “Don’t you dare laugh, Jaejoon-ah,” Kangjun mutters.  
  
The boy beside him whines. “Aw, hyung!” he says, and then proceeds to do the most disgusting aegyo ever. “Bugigikbugik.” Jaejoon wiggles his fingers in front of his face, as if he’s handling the ball of slime that is his aegyo in the palm of his hands.  
  
Kangjun doesn’t want to say anything for fear that he might actually throw up in his mouth a little. He levels Jaejoon with a glare, and walks off to serve his perfectly-brewed cappuccino.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
The next day, Kangjun looks up from the coffee machine to see Hyunil walking into the cafe.  
  
 _What are the odds?_  Kangjun thinks. Hyunil looks a little worn, a little less bright, and Kangjun has to swallow down the compulsion to reach for him.  
  
Hyunil strides resolutely up to the counter.“One tall latte, to go, please.”  
  
“That’ll be 5600 won,” Kangjun says, keeping his voice as even as he can. He scribbles the hangul on the side of the cup, and takes the bills from Hyunil’s hand. He makes sure his fingers does not touch Hyunil’s. “Please proceed to the counter over there--”  
  
“Jun-ah.” Kangjun looks up, startled. He can feel Jaejoon perk up beside him.  
  
"Next, please," he calls over Hyunil's shoulder.  
  
He hears a long sigh before Hyunil shuffles off.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
He comes in the next day. Kangjun shouldn't be surprised, really.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
And he comes the following day. And the next.  
  
As Kangjun hands over his change, he can't help but say, "Why are you coming here every day?" He wants to say,  _I don’t want to see you_ , but he knows that it’s not true; because he probably spends the mornings, afternoons and nights thinking about Hyunil. When he sees Hyunil right in front of him, right now, Kangjun doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.  
  
Hyunil just shoots him a bemused look. “Three days is hardly every day, Kangjun- _sshi_.” His words make Kangjun’s brain sting.  
  
“Have a good day,” he says, and bites his bottom lip in embarrassment when Hyunil turns to walk away without a backward glance.  
  
Jaejoon sidles up to Kangjun. “So, what’s this all about? Care to share?” He smirks in a way that makes Kangjun want to hit him with the cash register.  
  
“A really long story,” he snaps. Jaejoon, for once, looks a little taken aback.  
  
“Okay, hyung. Let’s not be so uptight.”  
  
“You’re the uptight one!” Kangjun shoves him, and turns to the next customer in line.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Days turn into weeks. Kangjun grudgingly adjusts to Hyunil’s presence. He’s usually unobtrusive, taking his order once it’s done and settling in a small corner, tapping away on his laptop.  
  
But on days when the sun is unusually bright, Kangjun doesn’t want to look away from Hyunil’s back, nor his hair, bathed in golden light. Kangjun recalls the texture when he used to thread his fingers though it, and the soft strands he played with on particularly lazy afternoons. Then Hyunil sets his cup down on the saucer with a clink, and Kangjun remembers where he is and goes back to his work.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Slowly, Kangjun gets his life together. He doesn’t sleep for a day so he can finish reading all of last week’s lectures, and next week’s too. He works a few extra shifts on some weeks so he’ll have enough to pay off the rent in his dormitory. And then he makes a phone call to his father.  
  
They arrange to meet in a coffee shop that’s far away from the one that Kangjun works at. He’s not sure if he ever wants to bump into his father during work. Or any other time, to be honest. Kangjun thinks that problems are harder to overcome if he’s constantly reminded of them.  
  
Kangjun is early, and once he steps into the shop, he regrets it. He doesn’t want to be the fool waiting for someone who might never turn up, much less his father. The thought of speaking to him so soon makes him a little ill.  
  
Kangjun is too reckless with himself and his feelings, that he knows. But what he cannot figure out is how his father might turn his words against him. He can’t anticipate how his father might make him stutter and stammer like the child he once was, scoring a less-than-perfect mark in the face of a cane. What he cannot figure out is how his father can cut him down with a word, how he has that kind of power over Kangjun even now. His hands are clammy wrapped around his mug of steaming coffee.  
  
Ten, twenty minutes pass and his father has yet to turn up. Kangjun is just about to stand up and go when the bell to the front door tinkles.  
  
 _There he is_ , Kangjun thinks. At this point, just looking at his father makes rage bubble under his skin.  
  
His father looks tired and a little haggard, but it’s not fair. His mother has aged so much these days, but his father’s grey hairs are not even particularly visible from this distance.  
  
Kangjun settles himself down again. He hopes that his father didn’t catch on to the fact that Kangjun was going to leave.  
  
But of course he does. He sits down with a relaxed posture that does not show any kind of remorse. Kangjun wants to reach over and shake him.  _Aren’t you worried about what I have to say? Aren’t you afraid? Why aren’t you humbled by your mistakes?_  
  
His father smiles at him, a forced twitch of his lips that Kangjun has learnt to read over the years. He’s not nervous at all, merely polite, waiting for Kangjun to make the first move.  
  
“I,” Kangjun says, and then clears his throat. “How are you, dad?” He wants to flinch from the name.  
  
“I’m alright.”  
  
Kangjun nods. And waits.  
  
“You know,” his father says, leaning in across the table. Kangjun has to fight down the urge to back away. “It was just one time. I was away on a really, really long business trip and your mother--”  
  
“Don’t talk about mom.”  
  
“Right.” His father continues smoothly, “I was away on a business trip and I met her. I really didn’t mean--”  
  
"I don't want to hear your excuses," Kangjun bursts out.  
  
"Then what do you want to hear?"  
  
Kangjun is shaking in disbelief. His father is still speaking in a cold, calculated way that makes his stomach churn. Where is the father that had coddled him as a child and kissed his wife on the cheek before work every day? Kangjun wonders if he tried too hard to create an image of a father crafted from fiction, and simply chose to overlook his own father’s glaring flaws.  
  
"I..." Kangjun falters.  
  
"Do you even know what you're saying?" his father sneers at him, and Kangjun feels something inside snap.  
  
"I don't want to hear anything from you. I'm here to say goodbye,” Kangjun says, gritting his teeth.  _Be resolute,_  he tells himself as he stands up and picks up his bag,  _don’t be a coward in front of this man._  "I don't want to see you ever again." He slings his jacket over his shoulder. "And don’t come and find mom again."  
  
“I won’t,” his father calls from behind him. Kangjun barely manages to hide his shiver of disgust.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
Kangjun doesn’t know why he even called his father to begin with. He’d like to think that he wanted closure, but if he’s being serious, Kangjun knows that he expected what he got. He expected all of what he got from his father.  
  
He knows now that he hadn’t been ignoring his father’s flaws. He’d only been wishing to stay far away before things get worse. From the moment he came home to see his parents fighting for the first time, he wanted to believe that his father could be salvaged.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Jun, are you just going to ignore me?” Hyunil whispers lowly, leaning in, and behind him the two customers begin checking their phones and tapping their feet. Hyunil’s gaze is so intent on him that Kangjun is at a loss for what to do. Part of him wants to return being that child who walked out of Hyunil’s home weeks ago, but Kangjun’s promised himself that he’ll straighten things out.  
  
He sighs. “No, I’ll see you after my shift. It ends in--”  
  
“An hour!” Jaejoon chirps from behind him.  
  
“Excuse you,” Kangjun says.  
  
“Thank you, I should be going now.” Jaejoon flees with coffees clutched to his chest.  
  
“I’ll be waiting over there, then.” Hyunil does a little awkward wave towards the back of the cafe and turns to go.  
  
Kangjun chews on his bottom lip, worried, before calling for the next customer.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
A few minutes is all Jaejoon waits before he’s sidling up against Kangjun’s side at the sink. “So, an old flame?”  
  
Kangjun sighs.  
  
“It’s okay, I won’t judge,” Jaejoon sing-songs. Kangjun notices that he takes an extremely long time washing his cup. It’s just one cup, for Christ’s sake.  
  
“Yes. Yes, he is.” Kangjun turns to set his cup on the counter, and returns to the cash register.  
  
Kangjun thinks that Jaejoon might be disappointed, but his co-worker merely pats him on the shoulder before moving off to make another tea freeze.  
  
  
  
  
`  
  
  
  
  
“Hey,” Kangjun greets Hyunil an hour later, sliding into the seat across from him.  
  
Hyunil merely smiles at him wanly, fingers toying with the empty coffee cup. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he mumbles, and drops his gaze to the tabletop.  
  
This isn’t what Kangjun wants to hear. He’d expected an apology, or even some sort of serious statement about the state of things. Kangjun thinks about all the things that have happened and this meeting in a coffee shop doesn’t fit quite right.  
  
“Did you come back on purpose? Or do you just really like the coffee here?”  
  
Then Hyunil breaks out into a grin, and the contrast from his half-hearted attempts before this makes Kangjun want to smile too. “What do you think?” he teases.  
  
“I think--” Kangjun is reeling, reeling from how fast they can come back together, despite what has happened. “I think it’s because you want to see me.” He pauses here, and after a beat, adds, “But that’s okay, because I wanted to see you too.”  
  
Saying that wasn’t as difficult as what he thought would be. In fact, it’s so easy for them to fall back in place. It’s like Kangjun never left. “Want _ed_? Do you still want to see me now?”  
  
“Yes.” Kangjun says. “I think I’ve waited for you for a long time.” Yes, Kangjun thinks, this is what he wanted to say since the day he chose to leave Barom’s house.  
  
Hyunil blinks at him, smile still in place. “Don’t wait for me,” he tells him, and then pauses to drain the rest of his coffee. “Come and find me.” He picks up his laptop case, and slides a napkin towards Kangjun. “It’s good to see you again, but I have a class and my campus is far from here.”  
  
“Of course.” Kangjun waves, and watches as Hyunil disappears out of the shop. The ink on the napkin rubs off on his hand.  
  
He starts to key Hyunil’s new number into his phone, hope blossoming in his chest.  _I think I can really do this, mom,_  he thinks as he keys in the second digit. And when he reaches the fifth, he thinks,  _fuck it_ , and strides out of the coffee shop.  
  
Hyunil’s back is easily recognisable in the crowd, and Kangjun grins so hard his cheeks hurt. He breaks into a run, his heart thundering in his ribcage.  
  


 

 

 


	3. Hyeri

**Part III: Hyeri**  
  
 **2018, winter**  
  
  
Hyeri  _hates_  her job. The telephone on her desk is set at such a shrill volume and she has no idea how to make it shut up. She almost jumps out of her skin each time the device rings. On some days, when she’s completely focused on the spreadsheet in front of her, the stupid thing sends her keymashing across the document. Like today.  
  
Hyeri snatches up the phone, composes herself, and then presses her voice into a demure, gentle tone that one isn’t likely to possess in such a high tension environment. “Lee Enterprises, may I ask who’s speaking?”  
  
Hyeri hums at the right places, takes a message, and hangs up the phone minutes later with a sigh. She sighs even louder when she turns back to the spreadsheet before her. If they could just let her do something else other than this mundane task eight hours a day, five days a week, she would--  
  
The familiar click of shoes jerks her out of her daydream. It’s the boss, doing his daily 4.30PM rounds. Hyeri is the newest employee in the company and he would not be pleased to see her slack off. She turns back to her screen quickly and pretends to be actually keying in the data, not daydreaming for 5PM to come.  
  
Thankfully, the sound of shoes echoes across the room and she peers from her cubicle hopefully. Across from her, Kangjun picks up his briefcase and Hyeri cranes her neck, looking over his shoulder to see--  
  
There he is. Hyeri sighs a little dreamily.  
  
The man who comes to pick Kangjun up sometimes makes Hyeri believe that there is a god somewhere-- a terribly unfair one. Hyeri only sees his side profile for about two seconds before he’s turning around to take Kangjun’s briefcase for him, and they walk to the elevator together.  _Maybe it’s his older brother_ , Hyeri thinks as she watches how the man slings an arm over Kangjun’s shoulder so easily.  
  
After Hyeri has had her daily dose of eye candy, she packs up relatively quickly to leave. Taemin said that he’d take her out to someplace nice today. And right on time, her cell phone buzzes with a text from him.  
  
 _I’m at the carpark~~~_  
  
Hyeri dumps her phone into the bottom of her bag and with one hand placed carefully against her belly, exits the office quickly.  
  
Taemin is waiting for her when she exits the elevator in the basement, and they walk to their car together.  
  
Hyeri thinks she sees movement in one of the cars, and she turns out of curiosity, and manages to stifle a gasp in time.  
  
Kangjun is inside the car with his brother, but Hyeri thinks that they aren’t brothers. Brothers don’t put their foreheads together so close their noses almost touch. Hyeri watches the way the man’s hand come to stroke Kangjun’s nape, and it reminds her so much of how Taemin does it to her that she has to tear her eyes away.  
  
“What’s up?” Taemin says, turning to grasp her hand in his. Their engagement rings glitter under the lights.  
  
“Nothing, I thought I’d forgotten something,” she says, and tugs him away. “Let’s go.”  
  
  


 

 

 

 


End file.
